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Full text of "Romola [microform]"

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11 



Canadian Inathut* for Hlatorieal MleronproductioiM / InaWut Canadian da mierorapradiictiona Matorlquaa 





TIM iRsliiutt has attampnd to obuin ttw bnl origiiul 
copy availaM* for Uimtn%. Faaturn of this copy whioti 
may b* bibliographically wwiiit. which may atltr any 
of tha imatai in iha raproduction. or which may 
Hfnificanilv chan«t tha uuial mathod of f ilminff, ara 



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□ Colourad eovon/ 
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□ Cowan rattorad and/or laminatad/ 
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□ Covar lilla mitsing/ 
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□ Quality ol print nariaa/ 
Qualiti i n iiali da I'lmpwiiion 

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Additional commanit:/ Pagaa ohol 1y otoacurad by tl ssuas hava boon raff load to antura tha boat 

Cammantairai uipptamantairat: poaatbia loaga. Pagination l> aa folloni p. {lH, Cvlf]-e1jn, [7]>213. 



Tim iiam it fitanad at tha raduction ratio diackad balow/ 
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Tha oopy fllmad hara Hm bMn raproducad thank* 
to tha ganaroaity of: 

National Library of Canada 



L'axamplaira fiiin« fut raprodult griea i la 
gtntroaitt da: 

BiUlothtqua nationala du Canada 



Tha magaa appaaring hara ara tha baat quality 
ponibia conaldaring tha condition and ioglbllity 
of tha original copy and In Icaaping with tha 
filming contract (paclflcationa. 



Original copiaa in printad papar eovar* ara fllmad 
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sion, or tha back covar wtian appropriata. All 
othar original copiaa ara fllmad baglnnlng on tha 
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aion, and anding on tha laat p-n« with a printad 
or lliuatratad tmpraaaion. 



Tha laat racordad frama on aach microficha 
ahall conuin tha aymboi — *- (maanlng "CON- 
TINUED"), or tha aymboi y (maanlng "END"), 
whichavar appllaa. 

Maps, piataa, charta, ate, may ba fllmad at 
diffarant raduction ratioa. Thoaa too larga to ba 
antiraly Includad In ona axpoiura ara fllmad 
baglnnlng In tha uppar laft hand comar, laft to 
right and top to bottom, aa many framas aa 
raqulrad. Tha following diagrama llluatrata tha 
mathod: 



Laa Imagaa auhfantaa ont M raproduitaa avac la 
plua grand aoln, compta tanu da la condition at 
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flimaga. 

Laa axamplairaa originaux dont ia couvartura an 
paplar aat imprimto aont fllmfa an comman^nt 
par la pramiar plat at an tarmlnant aoit par la 
damitra paga qui comporta una amprainta 
dimpraaaion ou d'llluatration. aolt par la aacond 
plat, aaion la caa. Toua laa autraa axamplairaa 
origlrwux aont fllmto an commandant par la 
pramMra paga qui comporta una amprainta 
dimpraaaion ou d'llluatration at an tarmlnant par 
la darnMra paga qui comporta una talla 
amprainta. 

Un daa aymbolaa auivanta apparaltra «ur la 
darnitra Imaga da chaqua microficha. aalon la 
caa: la aymboia —»- algnlfia "A 8UIVRE", la 
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at da iiaut an baa, an pranant la nombra 
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'PyRk.HT LOITION 




M () L A 

HGE ELIOT 

K«/GK<)RGK KfJOt 

'' 1 ! O E B L 1 N n 



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i.R A N G 






lIOMm-i-T:-?!:-;^?;^,;- 




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iL^^^A^^^COm^T- EDITION 

By GEORGE ELIOT 

^'/M* LIFE ./GEORGE ELIOT 
Bjr MATHI^DE BLIND 



PRONTO 



GEORGE N. MORANG 



•MPANy. LIMITED 



MCMit 






Bntar*)! accorrfbiK to Act ttf ParHanwit of Caaada, ia tba jrvar 
Niaatawi Hundrad and Two, bjr Oaoaaa N, Mokahs ir Comtahv, 
Ltfldtad. at tha DafartaMat of Affrisultwa. 



009376SS 



CONTENTS. 



L 

a 
ui. 

IV. 

V. 

VL 

VIL 

Via 

IX. 

X 

XI. 

Xil. 

XUL 

XIV. 

XV. 



m. 

IV. 
V. 
VL 

vn. 



UEOBOK IU01 

1>TMOUOTOIIT ^ 

Cbildbood asd Eablt Bomb ,m 

YoirraruL Studim aiid raiiNDtHira »xUl 

Tbahilatiom or Stbauu amd Fcdkbbaob— Tovb 

OB THE CoHTinifT XXXlz 

Td 'Wb8T«ih»tbbRbvibw' xii, 

Obobob Hbitbt Lbwbi 1,111 

SOBBBS OF Clbbical Lin .... Ix^ 

t^^j""' .■.'.■; i««iu 

Tbb Mill ob tbb Flou ,ct1 

8lLA» HABBBS ^ 

!°"°"' :.::::: dv 

^^T' ««"» 

Fblix Holt ahd Hiddlbmabch ezzzUl 

Dabibl Dbbobda jji 

LAiT TbABS .... 

cUt 

BOICOLA 
I'M"" ,, 

Book I 

The 8HIPWBBCKBD Stbabobb 15 

Bbbakfast fob Lovb jg 

Thb Babbbb'b Shop gi 

FiasT Ihpbbsuohs ^ 

Thb Blibd Scholab abd hu Oausbtbb SO 

Dawhibo Hopes gj 

A Lbabhbs S^habblb fta 



CONTENTS. 
oBArrsB 
VIU. A Face w thb Cbowd ... '"■ 

IX. A Man's Ransom ® 

X. Dndeb the Plane-Tbee ^™ 

XI. Tito's Dilemma . . '* 

Tni' l" ^'" " ^"^" «"*»™' .'.■.■■■■"■ m 

XIII. The Shadow of Nemesis "* 

XIV. The Peasants' Faib . "* 

XV. Th. DriNo Message ...'.'.' .' '** 

XVI. A Flobentinb Joke ..." ^** 

XVII. Uhdeb the Loogia . "' 

XVIII. The Pobtbait . '» 

XIX. The Old Man's Hope "* 

XX. The Day OF imc Beibotbal ' ' ' ' ^^ 

SOS 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



CHAPTBB I. 

INTBODUOTOBT. 

Spbakbto Of the contributions made to literatn™ h. u 
current, throuch th« Ian™,.™ , ."* PMsed, hke an electric 

»ge of their sex. Th^y ttoS IL f u ^"""^ '"^ *" ~"- 
they wrote, their books beZ«fr/n' " '""^'"'' """^ '''»en 
woia«hood. A^dTy belT^l't^^'^* fP""""" <>' their 
ing in.pi«tion from thSwn liflxr''''^'''''. ""^ """y ""«"'- 
Wlely copying that of Irthii, i f/^ °"f- '°''*'''^ °^ ""^ 

novels an^piftures^haVeTdiS'n^^^^ "-^ '^'T"' '^'" 
student of art and litl»tn™ iS^ ??^' """1"^> ''^"^ f°' the 
hwd, have not foUo j^The f =°8'"'J"'?'"«'>. <>" the other 
They' have not alK free T .""^^ '""P"''*" °^ ""t""*- 

the masculine ™^r^ For tw " mtellectual products on 
their writing^ rrT-usua^?: Tj^'Z'"' '"^^ *^'"»« ^""t. 
"BMcnlinestrie like th« .w ? ""^ e^^aggeration of the 

male attire "' ''^asgermg gait of a bad actress in 



Hi 



viii 



GEOKGE EUOX 



with M^ame de St:^!.^ S^ ~ Z^^ °- cocpa^Ht 
*«»«." But an aphorism, howeveS- -^^""^ »'<»/«»* 

only one half the?ruth.aidthertaS"ir'' """""^ '«°^°» 
women have already, and will m^,"). ^ f "'»' *° ""wk that 
«f nse into their works oer^ inteUecTr 'T'^' "'^^'^y. 
.ties which are essentially their ojn'sh '^f '"""'°'^ 5'>^- 
mit George Eliot's conclusion tCj J ?^^ ''«' however, ad- 
hitherto shown any of this ori«n^? ^""fhwomen alone have 
mentioned by herein ^^f^'^'^^' S^^e^l causes are 
Among these causes there is nnl.t- t" ^'"'^Ptioual merit 
to every one who began to "fleet 1 . v ^""^^ P^'^Wy occur 
ence of the « Salon "in dev£' °« '*'" '"•'J"''- The influ- 
feminine talents has long bl^i Cc^ritj''T'''«°» «■« finest 
women the gift of expression w^. * ^- ^° "*" ^ehool for 
of perfection. By thr^^^f^e c^^'"*^ '" *^« "'"o^t Pit4 
of the most vital subjecrtwJ!!!.*'""' "" "'« disonSsion 
and forcible; sentimentS„*H« ^,' "'«"' l'"°«ous, 
""e-t ; and wit, with i .^b^wTn^^'n ' •«^'' °* '^fi"*" 
sombre background of life ^ "ointillations, lit „p the 

morelpnuLXXtlr^^^^ accounting for that 

them by George Eliot, thlw ?s oZ^T'"'' "t^buted to 
We occurred to no other i^nd th^ T^'"^ ''""" P^^^Wy 
characteristic of her earlv ,^»n«fl . ^'"'' """^ '^ki^I' is too 
For according to her. the p^ r„^ " J^°'T''''' '^ ^ ""itt^ 
'« «ainly due to certainh" JorT*^ "^ P«>nckwomen 
Gallic race. Namely, to the "Si""* P*""""'""" «" the 
perament which penit the L.^rl .""" *'"' ^■^»«»ns tem- 
the superlative a^iWty wqui^S fn^''*" °^ ^oman to sustain 
whereas "the larger blinlnd sW •^''"^'''"al creativeness," 
'»h and Germans are™ the wZn, "^""1"^"' °' ""> B"?" 
Jreamy and passive. So tW Ti,?"^'^ .organization generally 
'"ffice as the substratnm fori su' ri^';^ n- °' * ''°'»»° "ay 

-og«t,pro«tin,bythe..Get^rCyTriturS?: 



INTBODUCTORY. 



IZ 



to reflect that she does not deDrti!. l * '*^' gratifying 
even English and Gema^ womTn Sh^ .' T",''' «««« of 
tions might arise which iiTthlir^^. , *'^'°"' *''»' """di- 
to the highest creatire&rt L^f- ° r"'"* ^ ^^^°'»We 
the existing state of thh,« 'Jn J "' "^'"^ ^°^^^ ""odify 
W own scintifil ^L^^Xr- Thf wl'a'n^ ^ ^^^^'^ ^" 
city can seldom rise beyond ti^e\.J^.V^ T- °^ '*'8e oapa- 
sical conditions relu^toZ^t!)^°''°^'^'^'^''^^y- 
Bpontaneous activity; The voiE i '^' "T^ '«<l»i™d for 
produce crystaUizations " ^ "^ ""' '"°°8 «°""gt to 

favorable circumstances^^^tS^"^ ' ^' ^""^ '''°^« "°'« 
ready arisen in her case? No Tw w I!f' P^^^Wlities al- 
ter, in the superior cSfms of i InstH ' ^^''^f' ^°' *'''" "at- 
true George Hiot enumemte " t J?,""'""'""'"- I' « 
But on the whole we may W of Tn! "' "f "' """»««• 
need not shrink from th^ tmpalfn """' '"''''"*■«'' ""»* 

geners;iT/rrnrrpet«^^^^^^^^^^ 

remains," she says, "the single S^c'e 11 ^' ^^'^^ 

supreme in a class of literature which h! " ''°°""' ^''° " 
t.on of men, Mme. Da^Sr "till -Lfr*"^'' *" """W- 
stockings, though women W„ ^^ .** "J"*"' "^ "ue- 

shame, Mme. d^e S^Ps nam;' n f "'"f '1. ^"'«'' ^'^"^^ 
are asked to mentioT a wdn^ *! ^ ' "P" '"'""' ^« 
Mme Round is still th^ ZT^alled C Jt" '=*^ '"''"' 
sternly heroic yet lovable wom«n ^ o*''* sagacious and 
preached artist who to jCtL'^,^"""* " *'"""'»?- 
sense of external natare „n,>^ If f°'J'"'°''« ""^ deep 
"■rr *"J ^ Co depth ^ pli^T «'««-«<'" <>' 

o^'Sa^llX^ri'ac^^^^^^^ 
so certain that they, too did n^ \^ '"«'' * '«^«1 ? Is it 
their womanly nat^ur^s ? Thaf tW V"* .°'. *'« ^"'"««» <>* 
genuine need to express modes of tL^^l '''^. °°* ^''^ 'he 
l.ar to themselves, which men, if at aTt.^^''/''''-^ P^""" 
eipressed hitherto ? ' *"' ^*^ ^ut inadequately 



hi 



X QEORQE EUOT. 

Wm not Queen Elizabeth the best type of a female ruler, 
one whose keen penetration enabled her to choose her mlnis- 
tei8 with infallible judgment ? Did not Fanny Burney distil 
the delicate aroma of girlhood in one of the most delightful 
of novels ? Or what of Jane Austen, whose microscopic 
fidelity of observation has a well-nigh scientific accuracy, 
oerer equalled unless in the pages of the author we are writ- 
ing of ? Sir Walter Scott apparently recognized the eminently 
feminine inspiration of her writings, as he says : " That young 
lady had a talent for describing the involvements, and feel- 
ings, and characters of ordinary life, which is for me the most 
wonderful I ever met with. The Bow-wow strain I can do 
myself like any now agoing; but the exquisite touch, which 
renders ordinary commonplace things and characters interest- 
ing from the truth of the descriptions and the sentiment, is 
denied to me." Then turning to the Brontes, does not one 
feel the very heartbeats of womanhood in those powerful 
utterances that seem to spring from some central emotional 
energy ? Again, does not Mrs. Browning occupy a unique 
place among poets ? Is there not a distinctively womanly 
strain of emotion in the throbbing tides of her high-wrought 
melodious song ? And, to come to George Eliot herself, will 
any one deny that, in the combination of sheer intellectual 
power with an unparalleled vision for the homely details of 
life, she takes precedence of all writers of this or any other 
country ? To some extent this wonderful woman conforms to 
her own standard. She undoubtedly adds to the common 
fund of orystallfzed human experience, as literature might be 
called, something which is specifically feminine. But, on the 
other hand, her intellect excels precisely in those qualities 
habitually believed to be masculine, one of its chief character- 
istics consisting in the grasp of abstract philosophical ideas. 
This faculty, however, by no means impairs those instinctive 
processes of the imagination by which true artistic work is 
produced ; George Eliot combining in an nnusual degree the 
subtlest power of analysis with that happy gift of genius 
which enabled her to create such characters as Amos Barton, 
Hetty, Mrs. Poyser, Maggie, and Tom TuUiver, Godfrey Cass, 
and Caleb Garth, which seem to come fresh from the mould of 



INTBODUCTOBV. 



Xi 



he, ^Se soil L^'^^ZZ'TZ ^ '"'f ""« "»"- 
types, whereas GeonfeS^d nnw, ^* ""'"^ "^ "PPosito 
th^ugh^ in sy.X wXrZtil^'-''^ '^^^^ ^"^ ^» 

their r^pectiv; TountrTe? If fttm' ^'f .« P°^'«°'' '" 
main a question of il^yuXlll'X,'''''''' '" 
disposed to rank higher, Geori m^ K .*"" °°* " 

realist, George Sand ^the 'greaS iS st "f *L "'^ «''**''^' 
works of the French writer?™ ;„/;' °^ ''" *"• The 
than novels. They are noTsturtil/?"/' T'" P"^'"^ "''^er 
by the poet's visi'r G^o ' sZ '"' interpreted 

tion of My scene in n^°^ ??** ''*°°°' «'''« "« » desorip. 
character, Sut Tm^e to f/ °'° ''*"°«'' °* " ^""-^^ 
objects seen under V^^^J '* '""^ °"^«'" e^ect as of 

storm clouds- wher^^Seorr'^1^'"'' °' '°°°''"^''* °' 
ductions in th7h7^ ^!!^ .J^* 'Tf *° '^**'e '"'^ P'O" 
n>om for iUulnZf re^veis airiaf "^ ''^>. "''"^ ""''^^ »-> 
directness. The one h« m^ ? v " '""' uncompromising 
which seizes on the elementrsid. ''^'.f ™"'^« imaginatiof 
of the starry heaven7n?„f A, °*, W«-on the spectacle 

tion and tu?ult ofTum^ 'ir' '" i'"'^t'' °° *« •°»"'«'^ 
convulsing the socw"o^e^"TCt^';„«,';°«'^« "* "-'"tion 
higher degree, the acute intPll-J "*"■ P«»»M«es, in a 

sequence of life foTSlt^,nii 5'™'P"°° *»' *'"' °«leriy 

the lot of the mis of men ^nH^ll' "'""t"' '"^ "''''"> *« 
aspects as it teUs "n our 'd! , • ^*' '"'*'' '° ''« *«""«!■" 
finest work thti^a sweet L^n'r^f- ^° ^°'«« S*'"^'^ 
were an oracle of mtuTuJr^ "'<''^' *'"'™' '^ '^ '^^ 
message. But on fh. f k ^ o* automatically the divine 
sakes her, sheVriftf Il^n^o^:''' "^" '""^ '^^^^^^^ou for! 
fatal facility of Ken oLn ''^^ ^■v"''"^ 

-Wgenius: indee^irro^MrSirG^^^^^^^^^^^^ 



4C 



1 

H 

I 



*•' GBORGE EUOT. 

that if you set up for an artist you must command art. This 
intellectual self-restraint never forsakes George Eliot, who 
always selects her means with a thorough knowledge -' the 
ends to be attained. The radical difference in the genius of 
these two writers, to both of whom applies Mrs. Browning's 
apt appellation of "large-brained woman and large-hearted 
man," extends naturally to their whole tone of thought. 
George Sand is impassioned, turbulent, revolutionary, the 
spiritual daughter of Kousseau, with an enthusiastic faith in 
man's future destiny. George Eliot, contemplative, obser- 
vant, instinctively conservative, her imagination dearly lov- 
ing to do "a little Toryism on the sly," is as yet the sole 
outcome of the modern positive spirit in imaginative litera- 
ture — the sole novelist who has incorporated in an artistic 
form some of the leading ideas of Comte, of Mazzini, and 
of Darwin. In fact, underlying all her art there is the same 
rigorous teaching of the inexorable laws which govern the life 
of man. The teaching that not liberty but duty is the condi- 
tion of existence ; the teaching of the incalculable effects of 
hereditary transmission, with the solemn responsibUities it 
involves ; the teaching of the inherent sadness and imperfec- 
tion in human nature, which render resignation the first virtue 
of man. 

Ii. f-xit, as a moral influence, George Eliot cannot so much 
be compared with George Sand, or with any other novelist of 
her generation, as with Carlyle. She had, indeed, a far more 
explicit ethical code to offer than the author of ' Sartor Besar- 
tus.' For though the immense force of the tetter's personal- 
ity, glowing through his writings, had a tonic effect in 
promoting a healthy moral tone, there was little of positive 
moral truth to be gathered from them. But the lessons 
which George Eliot would fain teach to men were most 
unmistakable in their bearing — the lessons of pitying love 
towards fellow-man; of sympathy with all human suffering; 
of unwavering faithfulness toward the social bond, consisting 
in the claims of race, of country, of family ; of unflagging 
aspiration after that life which is most beneficent to the com- 
munity, that life, j short, towards which she herself aspired 
in the now famous prayer to reach 



CHILDHOOD AND EABLV HOME, 
'm /."",' """"• •* "^ <*"" •Ml' 
B«g«t the .mj„ ,h„ h„, „„ ^^ J. 
And is d.ffn.io„ „„ „„^ inteoM." ' 



CHAPTEE II. 

OHIIDHOOD AHD EAW,T HOM. 

«nff, in the parish of Colton t ^"*\^''™' » mile from 
Jate and placfof her Wrth W 1 '"^^"•'- ^*^ "»« 
hitherto, i. the notices fhe^ We ThaTT"^ ''**«''' 
«nff House in March of the Llnwir. ""^'^^ '^°'">^ *» 

only six month, old. Her fath^ ZL^i' '''"'° "''«' ^^ 
^ngin, was a StaffordsW™ mln fr^"**^, ^^'""'' "^ ^eloh 
bourne, and began life «^a I! T ^"^*°"' "«" Ash- 
Griff House mafstiulelenrr«'L„^° *" >'''<"'"' « 
press, a sample of his work^nsht T '^i!''^'"''"' •^''" 
preserved there, is known aa^^thf V. i^"*^" °* ^•"'' »'»" 
It.» not *, good a likeneTL tw ■^i'^'" l^^""" ^^•" 
painted miniature, the features of -»-^ t ~^« """fuHy 
able resemblance to thoseTf 2 d Jhf ^*' "" ""mistak-. 
tal.ze his name. A strongly VaS*"' 'l«'«"'^ *» i-n-nor- 
""Msive in structure, and wrth br^l ' ^*' ^'^^me lace, 
penetrating glance is particularly not7° ff^L '"""«' "''""'d 
■of strong practical intelUgence of rt^. '' ^^^"^ *'"' """n 
H.S career and character ^' ISr^'^^."'"* ""•J"™"'*- 
Bede, Caleb Garth, and Mr^aS^"^ ^"^'"^ « Adam 
the different stages of his lifr^ 'r^'!'"^"'^ « ''hich 
■of fact and fiction. A slh^„-* i, "corded with a mingline 



1 

HI 

n 






tlr 



GEOROE ELIOT. 



Like Adam Bede, Mr. Evani from carpenter rose to be 
forester, and from forester to be land-agenL It was in ihe 
latter capacity alone that he was ever known in Warwick- 
shire. At one time he was surveyor to five estates in the 
midland counties — those of Lord Aylesford, Lord Liilord, 
Mr. Bromley Davenport, Mrs. Gregory, and Sir Eoger Newdi- 
gate. The last was his principal employer. Having early 
discer .ed the exceptional capacity of the man, Sir Boger 
induced him to settle in Warwickshire, and take charge of 
his estates. Sir Roger's seat, Arbury Hall, is the original of 
the charming description of Cheverel Manor in ' Mr. Qilfll's 
Love Story.' It is said that Mr. Evans's trustworthiness had 
become proverbial in the county. But while faithfiUly serv- 
ing his employers he also enjoyed great popularity among 
their tenants. He was gentle, but of indomitable firmness ; 
and while stem to the idle and unthri%, he did not press 
heavily on those who might be behindhand with their rent, 
owing to ill-luck or misfortune, on quarter days. 

Mr. Evans was twice married. He had lost his first wife, 
by whom he had a son and a daughter, before settling in 
Warwickshire. Of his second wife, whose maiden name was 
Pearson, very little is known. She must, therefore, accord- 
ing to Schiller, have been a pattern of womanhood ; for he 
says that the best women, like the best ruled states, have 
no history. We have it on very good authority, however 
that Mrs. Hackit, in 'Amos Barton,' is a faithful likeness of 
George Eliot's mother. This may seem startling at first, 
but, on reflection, she is the woman one might have expected, 
being a strongly marked figure, with a heart as tender as her 
tongue 18 sharp. She is described as a thin woman, with 
a chronic liver-complaint, of indefatigable industry and epi- 
grammatic speech ; who, "in the utmost enjoyment of spoil- 
ing a friend's self-satisfaction, was never known to spoil a 
stocking." A notable housewife, whose clock-work regularity 
m all domestic affairs was such that all her farm-work was 
done by nine o'clock in the morning, when she would sit 
down to her loom. " In the same spirit, she brought out her 
furs on the first of November, whatever might be the tem- 
perature. She was not a woman weakly to accommodate her- 



CHODHOOD AOT) bably HOME. 



•elf to •hilly-shally prooeedinm If fh. 

what it ought to do, Mrs St ifd'^^VT" 5''^°'* '""W 

WM always sharp weaker ^.n ^° •"" •*»* ^7» i* 

of temper, she was yet ?ull JT^ observant and quick 
•howing itself inVealtiiehe^, "*"'"''''" "^"■P^'-y 
ea^e to the assistance TZrS^TV'^ '^'"^ ">• 
•he showed to her ohildren^h i^ ^"*°°' »°^ '^e love 
her. '"""*«'"• ''H however, declined kissing 

oha'LSr'Ld'^Ls.S Stm^r'"'""''^ '^*''«'"' this 
"' ? Mary Ann's g^?t 'of ' S!f f^""''' "^ ^°-ee Eliot's 
mother-wit, in the true sense C hi ^fv '"^ '^''"'^°" 
vellons powers of obserS^l 5 ""'' ''""" a°d "'a'- 
aide, while her oonSSnl'^. ''''"'«<' ^""^ «>« «une 
faculty of taking X Si«' ^ '"'^"^' '""' '^•* 
development of OTninslr. .'° '*'«« » factor in the 

^ Mr. Evans h^TZ rh^^^n bv hlsT'^^ ^""" "■« ^''"'" 
Isaac, and Mary Ann iJ?,f„? T"'' ''"''' ^^'"^"ana, 
George Eliot, i7reX to sol ^ '-terest:ng, I think," writS 
"to know whethe™ a wHtor wJT"""" "^-^ American ladT 
district-aconditio'nSX^;" - » central or bordf; 
ing influence. I was bom in wT^- u^. * """"gly determin- 
traditions connecte'Smo^ "rh"?"'^'''."' "^^'^ ^^^''^ 
districts a region of poetry to^^-^ '*"*"*^'« "ade these 
the autobiog^pbiors'c^,^'";^ ^.7 farly childhood." ^ 
we catch a riimnsfl nf .7™^''^ ®" 'Brother and Sister ' 
their accusCerralible r ,t™r^'^'''« "» children f^r 
•etting the frill inTder: then T^'^? ^°'"' *« *'PP«' and 
follow their lessening fiV.;r„;ttt 2 t. ^^ ''°°'-»'«P *» 
f«e-" Mrs. Evans was aware to , ^^'^Jf'^^^otion of her 
daughter's unusual caDacittT^' .''*'**'° *^*C"'. of her 

should have the tstTuc^^;u'^'"«*"r"' "*" ""'^ "•«* «he 
but also that good mot^TnCenlel sho^M "h^'k ""'f ^^'^ood. 
upon her: still, the eirl's Pm.?f?. v . ** ^ ''""»ht to bear 

bed c. used the'praXlUrh r t'^'Hranr"^' ^^^" '" 

The house, where the femiw 1 ^""'^ annoyance, 
which the firk twenty yeaS^^M-^^'l/* *^* time, and in 

"pent, is situated inVrich yeSlt^"",^''"'''^ "^« ^«'« 
verdant landscape, where the 



I 

\ 



xri 



OIOBOE EUOT. 



" gtMsy fieldi, each with a tort of pcnonality given to it bjr 
the oapricioui hedge-rowi," blend harmoniously with the red- 
roofed cottages Koattered in a happy haphazard fashion amid 
orchards and elder-bushes. Sixty years ago the country was 
much more thickly wooded than now, and from the windows 
of OrifF House might be seen the oaks and elms that had still 
survived from Shakespeare's forest of Arden. The house of 
the Erans family, half manor-house, half farm, was an old- 
fashioned building, two stories high, with red brick walls 
thickly covered with ivy. Like the' Garths, they were prob- 
ably "very fond of their old house." A lawn, interspersed 
with trees, stretched in front towards the gate, flanked by 
two stately Norway firs, while a sombre old yew almost 
touched some of the upper windows with its wide-spreading 
branches. A farm-yard was at the back, with low rambling 
sheds and stables ; and beyond that, bounded by qniet meadows, 
one may still see the identical " leafy, flowery, bushy " garden, 
which Qeorge Eliot so often delighted in describing, at a time 
when her early life, with all its tenderly hoarded associations, 
had become to her but a haunting memory of bygone things. 
A garden where roses and cabbages jostle each other, where 
vegetables have to make room for gnarled old apple-trees, and 
where, amid the raspberry-bushes and row of onrrajt-trees, 
you expect to come upon Hetty herself, " stooping to gather 
the low-hanging fruit." 

Such was the place where the childhood of George Eliot 
was spent. Here she drew in those impressions of English 
rural and provincial life, of which one day she was to become 
the greatest interpreter. Impossible to be in a better position 
for seeing life. Not only was her father's position always 
improving, so that she was early brought in contact with dif- 
ferent grades of society, but his calling made him more or less 
acquainted with all ranks of his neighbors, and, says George 
Eliot, " I have always thought that the most fortunate Britons 
are those whose experience has .given them a practical share 
in many aspects of the national lot, who have lived long among 
the mixed commonalty, roughing it with them under difficul- 
ties, knowing how their food tastes to them, and getting 
acquainted with their notions and motives, not by inference 



CHILDHOOD AND BARLY HOME. 



from traditional typM in liter«ti™ />. #„ 

dinary tenacity ?0^rofh.r^5K,i„ ""*"""' °' ""ro-"- 

imagine George E io^ «" bat th^' "' "" 'T'""' '" 
n.u«t have come into thVworlH fnii ! , '"*.""'^ " '* "''" 
Minerva. Her te.Tu^^Z^^'L^tSlfl^^'' " T ""^ 

Deane, had peonliarlv Z'nf„ # -^ *''* ""S*"*' "^ ^"«y 
fromo^t.d«,r«mWe,i,CL "l-"'"! ''*^' """^ »''™°k 
But Mary Ann a"d her br^thl ""'i'?? ">" "''oes or pinafore. 

of her oWn ohUdhood : _ ^ '°°*"* " * reminiacenoe 

Aad M. n», when 1 «>- , B„ri„ bu^, 
S»tch oat th. lise, 1«. h. .hould 3too Uf. 

And «,n,«I . d,«„..wo,ld flowing ofwS; ad,. 
"A to pavUioned Jboat for m. .done, 
»wing me onwwd throngh the rut unknown. 

"^W*^r° "" '"«''' '"■'«''■'"«* prow, 

And aU aj «,nl wm qai«ring fear, when lol 

Ijpon ,h. imperiltod line. .upendU Ugl^ 



fil 






"'^ OIOROK EUOT. 

"ArilT.rp.ichl My gam UiM won th. pwy 
Now tanwl to nwrit, had • gmrdoii rick 
Of hiifi ud pniM., uid nud. nuny plar 
UuU n; Mnnph iwobMl lu highMt pilch 

• Wb«i (ll u hooM WM. told th« nmdniw fwl. 
And how th. lltU. liiMr had bhnl w*U. 
In iMi«t, though my fortan. twt«l awMi, 
I woadtrad why thi. happinaa b.I.U. 

" ■ Th. UtU. laM had Inch,' th. gardowr aaid j 
And K> I Umti, Inch wa. to glory w«l." 

Unlike Maggie, however, little Mary Ann wa» m good » 
hand at fishing as her brother, only differing from him in not 
liking to put the worms on the hooks. 

Another incident taken from real life, if somewnat magni- 
fied, IS the adventure with the gypsies. For the prototypl of 
Maggie also fell among these marauding vagrants, and was 
detained a little time among them. Whether she also pro- 
posed to instrpot the gypsies and to gain great iafluenoe over 
them by teaching them something about "geography" and 
"Columbus," does not transpire. But, ind4d, most of 
Maggies early experiences are autobiographic, down to such 
facts as her father telling her to rub her "turnip" cheeks 
against Sally's to get a little bloom, and to cutting off one side 
of her hair m a passion. At a very early age Mary Ann and 
her brother were sent to the village free school at Colton, in 
the parish of Oriff, -v not unusual custom in those days, when 
the means of tuition for little children were much more difH- 
cult to procure than now. There are still old men living who 
used to sit on the same form with little Mary Ann Evans 
learning her A, B, C, and a certain William Jacques (the 
original of the delightfully comic Bob Jakins of fiction) 
remembers carrying hi ■ piok-a-baok on the lawn in front of 
her lather j house. 

As the brother and tnster grew older they saw less of each 
other, Mary Ann being sent to a school at Nuneaton, kept by 
Miss Lewis, for whom she retained an affectionate regard W 
years afterwards. About the same time she taught at a Sun- 
day-school, ,n a httle cottage adjoining her father's house. 



CHILDHOOD AND EAKLY HOMB. xix 

tbre«ornw«l. awkira?5^ girl "who '?! ""' "• 1"'"' 
wtohed h,r elder,, .h. wS pi J^5 J w" with th^'M""'''^ 
Franklin at CoTentrv tki. ""*,"**"»•' "tn the Mines 

whom the younger, Mi,. Keb;»a "Sin Vja to™"' 1 
unusual attainments and ladylike oulta« L^thT k """ "' 
out a certain taint of Tnhn.™- '"L"""' »'">ough not with- 
have thowughly L^undJ^l V r *"''''°"- ^^^ •"■»» ^ 
education Sng ™at .t™« 'IL' 1'"','" ' '"""'* =°8>'»'' 
of a pred.,^,.! Cfu fmannerT.™'!:! °" ">« P"?""'^ 
She herulf alwava ,„"i.™ " ° /P*""""* """^ reading. 
.tudiedTentenJI.^and on Lr"' °' "P""*"* herself in 
called to a«k Xr a H^i ?f. "'^"'"' "''«'» • Mend had 

::r:rrnrtt: th^"'-" -ckX'riLtiroj fi: 

felKher ip! 'fSbvTh'atT'^V' '^"^ --'-oe,!. it 
-e second «a?u;e.td;i^l*,-TLtS^^^^^^^ 

beauty of l^e^l^tZ in ™X°SiIh' "^' *''"'' °' ""' 
to the same early influeVoe ^ ** '~*"^ """ °'"'» 

"SS7A„" Si*';erratitne*'L"'n' *" ^ """""^ 
stood aloof from thV 0*1!^ , '•>« Misses Franklin. She 

lows. Miss Br^^l y JenkLTa™\Tatr °' '" '^''°°'-'''' 
markable in those LirdaysM^Ll^L^^ ''"'" "^ ™- 

She seems to haveTt«tn^jl ■ ! * ''** acquired fame. 



i 



'i 



i ■ 



** QEOBGE ELIOT. 

rZr.''^^ appearance of a grave, staid woman, so much 
so, that a stranger, happening to caU one day, mistook this 
g.rl of th.rteen forone of the Misses Franklin, who wl^e then 
middle-aged women. In this, also, there is a certain resem" 
blance to Maggie Tulliver, who, at the age of th rteen Ts 
described a^ looking already like a wom^. Eng Ish c'om 
position, French and German, were some of the ! udies to 
which much time and attention were devoted. Bein™tlv 
^advance of the other pupils in the knowledge ofV^ch^ 
Miss Evans and Mi.s Jenkins were taken out of the ^1 
class and set to study it together, but, though the tw^ riris 
were thus associated in a closer fellowship, „o real intirScv 

George Eho." with mtense interest, but always felt as if in 
the presence of a superior, though socially their p^i tens 
were much on a par. This haunting sense of superiority pre 
eluded the growth of any closer friendship bet,^en the ?wo 

flohoolgirl, when one day, on using Marian Evans's Germ^ 
dictioiury. she saw scribbled on its blank page some ve»eT 
fo^ Z? "T^"^' "E""'°8 ""'«' sentimenSly a yelS 
then thp™ '^^P'*^- ^""^^ '^' granite-like exS 
humLn^ 7"" ^^f^ " '""^ *'•»' passionately craved T; 
human tenderness and companionship I 

thL""!' '°"'"JI^ ^^ °° '*°"''* '•"« PO'tio" of George Eliot in 

!f unusTl- ^*" "r' '^""^y ^^^^'^ a dim oonscioun, ° 
of unusiml power, to a great extent isolating her from Z 
girs of her own age, absorbed as they were in qu toother 
Hfe at'^hif '^'". ^r°« ''''^'"'' convictions Vi^edte 
tion th^h T°''' r^ '° '^' ^""^^ ^"i"' and spiritual exaltl 



CHttDHOOD AND EAHLT HOME. 



checkmated .t^C°^2'ZfT °' T •— ' -- 
and d«tii,guiahi„g pre^mCoe *^Lh '^ -^"^ probation 
aaoeboism did not exclude, on th'« nf,? \P'''y ^"'Png on 
perception of the advantages l.!?/". ^^^^'^ ^e'-y clear 
-"Jth, ard high soct:SXCn St'^ °' «°°^ ^X 
Esther m .pelix Holt,' she hada'fin^^ " "''" «*'«"'!"» 
anomalous surroundinOT of tl^ v I /*"'*' *^*^ somewhat 
cacies which are sup^'s:d to A "^-r^t^ and dell! 
P«opeof..ankandf^hion She evt «h ^'^ ""'*'">'«"' of 
menboned heroine certain gfriL v» ^"'"' '"''^ *•>« abo^e- 

losing her mother, who died in herfn . *^^°'"fortune of 
»g to a friend in after life he says ^rT ^**'- ^"t" 
to be acquainted with the unswaSl • ^^° *' ""t^en 
"g, m the death oi my mS" ll,^"'^ °^ "^ '»«* Part- 
ensued though iu the end they Lvp^ , ''°™'^"' Patings 
Her elder sister, and the brother in tl " '" ""vocable. 

foUowed "puppy-lihe " ma,^.H ^ ''°*' '"^P* she had once 
own. ThefrJ^^er^tt'ioterKdT^^ '° homes o7 the 
f^erences of their aims VAZ '^ ""ore pronounced 
"bother and sister" comXtely T^T"^' '''^>ded the 
between people who have been fri^nH^ ^""^ °^ "^Paration 
terrible to endure than the act Jl . u'"/"""' " °ft«n moi« 
t'-ly "work like madnet, in the b" n^'T ^"' """^ <'<"b 
reference to this in that n»ft,i^ ' ^ *bere not some 

"Family likeness hj'fr a dirT '" '^•''"» ^^-'^ 
tl«'t great tragic dramat st k„if ^ '"^^'"' *° ■'• Nature, 

»u,cle,and diodes rby'ttsubL'we^f" '^ *»"« -^ 
yearning and repulsion, and ties us h^ °l°"' ''™'"'' "«■"»» 
l^.ngs that jar us at ev'er^ement'^ °" heartstrings to the 
so like our mother's av«rt.^ * • ' • ^e see eyes — ah » 

For some years Xr If. m" "^'° ""'-J alienation" ' 
mainedalone'^t^^^thlfat Griff w ^'^"^ ^^'^ ^er father re- 

'°°'^' *^'^'- -' '" - ^^ttntrSi o1 



n 



f I 






zzii 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



"the little wenoh," as he oaUed her. But his daughter pre- 
ferred taking the whole rranagement of the place into her own 
hands, and she was as .soientious and diligent in the dis- 
charge of her domestic ^uties as in the prosecution of the 
studies she carried on at the same time. One of her chief 
beauties was in her large, finely shaped, feminine hands — 
hands which she haa, indeed, described as characteristic of 
several of ?,er heroines; but she once pointed out to a friend 
at Foleshill that one of them was broader across than the 
other, saying, with some pride, that it was due to the quan- 
tity of butter and cheese she had made during her housekeep- 
ing days at Griff. It will be remembered that this is a 
characteristic attributed to the exemplary Nancy Lammeter, 
whose person gave one the idea of "perfect, unvarying neat- 
ness, as the Body of a little bird," only her hands bearing "the 
traces of butter-making, cheese-crushing, and even still coarser 
work." Certainly the description of the dairy in ' Adam Bede,' 
and all the processes of butter-makiug, is one which only com- 
plete knowledge could have rendered so perfect. Perhaps no 
scene in all her novels stands out with more lifelike vividness 
than that dairy which one could have sickened for in hot, dusty 
streets : " Such coolness, such purity, such fresh fragrance of 
new pressed cheese, of firm butter, of wooden vessels per- 
petually bathed in pure water; such soft coloring of red 
earthenware and creamy surfaces, brown wood and polished 
tin, gray limestone and rich orange-red rust on the iron 
weights and hooks and hinges." 

This life of "mixed practical activity and intellectual pur- 
suits came to an end in 1841, when Mr. Evans relinquished 
Unff House, and the management of Sir Roger Newdigate's 
estates, to his married son, and removed with his dauehte • to 
Foleshill, near Coventry. 



I 



YOUTHFUL STUDIES AND FBIKNDSH1P& 



CHAPTEB III. 

TOCTHFUL STTOIM AND FBIENDSU^PS. . 

tn,e that the m t ab.le^m .°>en and women. It ia 

future author w.TpSceVo?t'^^'^Hr\*'T "'^'"^ '^« 
by the growing b^/p~r S^'Z^ThT f''""'"^ 

^aTtirsrei^t^^^^^^^ 

deUghta, rarely tgrnbeC'''"*Tt"' '° ''^''"' imagination 
engendered to be carrieTrt" in f^ ' ^. *'"''' *''" '"J"'" «« 
de Vigny says truly eno„;h.' ""' '""*""^ "' ^"«- ^^"1 

" Qn'eat-ce qa'mie imuide Tie i 
Uoe pe..,e de la jeans™,, exSe ^ I'ig. »„.» 

tha'flT^V*J:4rSe°"^ r /•"'^"""^ "P-i"- 
unhesitating acquiescence becol-K^ °^ *'"' '"'"°'"' ''i''' 
passionate questionfag 'iStW U f l'"*"' ''P«<'"i'"i°» and 
intellect, stimulated by tie se„^f „? taken upon trust. The 

unchecked capacity, delights In eL-'^P^"'*'°« """^ ''i*«rt<' 
cally passing^n ^'vieTth optaorrw'" '?'""^'' ''^ <="«" 
fflouly accepted as unalterable Z^' 'Hv' '""^'^'i^s com- 
! active, the heart is sturmore 'so TV •^"' '"*'""'" " ">»" 
t'me of enthusiastic frieSo 1/ ," " ""IP^atically the 
alsoof cnieldiseachantrentandd^ilf"^"^ 1°^^' " °^^ 
raphies, therefore, this phLe of ^if "'"°''' . ° ""°'" '"°8- 
than instructive. ForitsWt^ .•'•i'° '«" fasciuating 
»tage of growth alrej;^^^^'^ '''''""' '''"'' »*'" '" a 
oomiug a motive power a^corZ<r to ti' ""^'^""m"'- and be- 
lectual and moral endowments ^ '°'^"™ °^ ^'« '»'«!- 

entcVr Sorhilfshra^f^S^^ ^''^^ ^ - - 

edge and universality of cS'tK ^' '*°^^ "^ '^"'"'l- 
guished her. ^ ^'"^ '^''«='' 8° eminently distin- 



xzlv 



OEORQB EUOT. 



\l 



The house she now inhabited, though not nearly as pictur. 
esque or substantial as the former home of the Evanses was 
yet sufficiently spacious, with a pleasant garden in front and 
behind it; the latter, Marian Evans was fond of making as 
much like the delicious garden of her childhood as was pos- 
sible under the circumstances. In other respects she greatlv 
altered her ways of life, cultivating an ultra-fastidiousness in 
her manners and household arrangements. Though so vounir 
she was not only entire mistress of her father's estt;.'='hmenl' 
but, as his business required him to be abroad the grenier nart 
of each week, she was mostly alone. 

Her life now became more and more that of a student, one 
of her chief reasons for rejoicing at the change of residence 
being the freer access to books. She had. however, alreadv 
amassed quite a library of her own by this time. In addition 
to her private studies, she was now also able to have masters to 
instruct her m a variety of subjects. The Eev. T Sheen- 
shanks, head master of the Coventry Grammar-school, gave 
her lessons m Greek and Latin, as she particularly wished to 
learn the former language in order to read .«)schylus She 
continued her study of French, German, and Italian under the 
tuition of Signor Brezzi, even acquiring some knowledge of 
Hebrew by her own unassisted efforts. Mr. Simms the 
veteran organist of St. Michael's Coventry, instructed her in 
<,t/ir°^°'^' *"•' probably Rosamond Vincy's teacher in 
Middlemarch ' is a faithful portraiture of him. " Her master 
at Mrs. Lemon's school (close to a country town with a 
memorable history that had its relics in church and castle) 
was one of those excellent musicians here and there to be 
found in the provinces, worthy to compare with many a noted 
Kapellmeister m a country which ofters more plentiful condi- ' 
bons of musi^ celebrity." George Eliofs sympathetic ren- 
« K°£.l *7°"*'' composers, particularly Beethoven and 

Schubert, was always delightful to her friends, although con- 
noisseurs considered her possessed of little or no strictly 
technical knowledge Be that as it may, many an exquisite 
passage scattered up and down her works, bears witness to her 
heartfelt appreciation of music, which seems to have had a 
more intimate attraction for her than the fine arts. She shows 



fiue «onu«ent of lady Jane C ^/I ''''' ' -J^-""""? a 
^thio art at Astley Church wi^' «""""« "P^^i^en of old 

-t wrutiafixro^S'eSjfrt °^ ^--'^ «« ia 

the house of one of her marrie^h^lf 'l'*"'^ °^ ^'^o^-- In 

tW« f "l""* "«"«« and profoZllt „ff .'.° ''''"«^' showing 
^ time she must hare ofte^ C ^ affectionate nature. At 
being cut off from thatH^ feHol^ P""^"! "onsciousn ss^f 
to tllT"' *° *'''' «telK S'^P,:'"' the like-minded 

J«e, however, at once viTifvin.,)^\-''®°''«^''e8. A fresh 
she formed with Mr. and mT^^^'^J."*^^ friendship 

StT^°^^:t::SS^r°=o:^ 
r--":trir;££^^:^s^t: 

-vSnl L"r ^^-S 'Sl^L-Xfse'iir""'"^^^^^^^ 
TbeSetSkirM^^"^*'" ^"''^«°"- "" """^ 

^£5«a^t:r:sllv"^--£ 

I ^"'"'bitants of a tVarwictshirA t*^ """'^ '^^^ t^e sober 



rl' 

i 



; ' 



xzvi 



OEOBOE EUOT. 



Mr. Bray wag a wealthy ribbon manufacturer, but had 
become engrossed from an early age in religious and meta- 
physical speculation as well as in political and social questions. 
Beginning to inquire into the dogmas which formed the basis 
of his belief, be found, on careful inyestit;ation, that they did 
not stand, in his opinion, the test of reason. His arguments 
set his brother-in-law, Mr. Charles C. Hennell, a Unitarian, to 
examine afresh and go carefully over the whole tpround of 
popular theology, the consequence of this close study being 
the ' Inquiry concerning the Origin of Christianity,' a work 
which attracted a good deal of attention when it appeared, and 
was translated into German at the instance of David Strauss. 
It was published in 1838, a few years after the appearance of 
the ' Life of Jesus.' In its critical examination of the miracles, 
and in the sifting of mythological from historical elements in 
the Gospels, it bears considerable analogy to Strauss's great 
work, although strictly based on independenu studies, being 
originally nothing more than an attempt to solve the doubts of 
a small set of friends. Their doubt? were solved, but not in 
the manner originally anticipated. 

Mrs. Bray, of an essentially religious nature, shared the 
opinions of her husband and brother, and without conforming 
to the external rites and ceremonies of a creed, led a life of 
saintly purity and self-devotion. The exquisite beauty of her 
moral nature not only attracted Marian to this truly amiable 
woman, but filled her with reverence, and the friendship then 
commenced was only ended by death. 

In Miss Sara Hennell, Marian Evans found another congenial 
companion who became as a sister to her. This singular 
being, in most respects such a contrast to her sister, high- 
strung, nervouF xcitable, importing all the ardor of feeling 
into a life of austere thought, seemed in a manner mentally to 
totter under the weight of her own immense metaphysical 
speculations. A casual acquaintance of these two young 
ladies might perhaps have predicted that Miss Hennell was 
the one destined to achieve fame in the future, and she 
certainly must have been an extraordinary mental stimulus to 
her young friend Marian. These gifted sisters, two of a 
family, all the members of which were remarkable, by some 



^J 



TOOTHPCL «.™z.8 ^ PKIENBSHIPS. xxvii 

*-» already, or ultimately £^L"'?'^.f *^" ^emal group 
"PU.*. A reviewer in "he ^«, • *""'°' °* "■°«' or lew 
philosophical publications T^?""'*'' ^"''"8 °* Mr. Bray" 
would reduce his many^'rk'T ^'^" »K°. «aid: "If he 
essential, he would ZbtJeJs obt.r.r*^°'"» "°*Wngu^ 

thephilosophersof ourcoXtowhlh e' "'«" ^"^ ''^^S 
entitle him." His most popufar W n' P"''"" °^ though? 
o he Peelings/ intenderfor JT^' T"^? '^^-^ ^ducatfon 
^•th the laws of morality prIcZllv « v*I '"'^°*"''' <»«»•« 
T^ntings, on the same order „f{.*PP^'*^- Mrs. Bray's 
•implified for the unders^n^- 'f J*"''' '^ "*"! further 
authoress of • Phygiolo* * i"« °^ """"dren. She :" th! 
'Elements of MoS^^eS' 'He?'^n ?* British Empiet 
become a class book in thrsowT T"^ *° Animals' hai 
and she was one of the first amo^i%f *'"' ""'dland counties' 
and women who have endeS ^ '" "-"^-hearted men 
degree of humanity into our t'eltien^ 'f ""?"'"' " «"'''« 

«3eorge Eliot, writing to Mrs R™- "//"""als. 
^eiy subject, says : ^ "' -^'^^ « March 1873 on this 

h« trdTdlmtdeTsIhl^T^r^' ^-»' M«- S— 
of the best Italians in W a ^?''"'' ^^'^ ^^ t^e sympath; 
«hief point in trying to fmnl"!'"?' '^°^'- Of course^ 
kindness to anim^alsf and a fr^eL oVl^''^ " '^ *«»<'»' '^'m 

to her a small sum of monev - fift ^"".^ ^'^ <=°nfided 

applied to the translation and nub&""^'' ^ *Wnk-to be 
for young people, which would t^fu?" f '"""^ «°°^ ^ooks 
sympathy Witt dumb crel^.^ '"^'^ *° ""^« « ">- a 

S-te SVSd-Vr^^ ^"°^ *° ^-'"- Mr. 
""■mals, and also byteffi"^ 1^^ " "°?^ "^ ^""^ l»°k on 
parts of the book fir^t appfa,^d a^ w^,™"'?' '"^^^"^ the 
other works which you tWnk wo;m ll "" *''« *'*^«» "^ any 
the purpose in question? '^ ''°"'' "^''tioning for 

;Wow"f f^J,^;"/^^£ yo^^^ »ay probably know) is the 

--hantsare.andtllS:S^,7-^^^y 



i^^ 



SXTili 



OBORGE ELIOT. 



few. She knows aU lorts of good work for the world, and is 
known by most of the workers. It struck me, while she was 
speaking of this need of a book to translate, that you had 
done the very thing." 

A few days later the following highly interesting letter 
came from the same source: 

"Many thanks for the helpful things you hare sent me. 
'The Wounded Bird' is charming. But now something very 
much larger of the same kind must be written, and you are 
the person to write it — something that will bring the 
emotions, sufferings, and possible consoktions of the dear 
brutes vividly home to the imaginations of children: fitted for 
children of all countries, as Beineke Fuchs is comprehensible 
to all nations. A rough notion came to me the other day of 
supposing a house of refuge, not only for dogs, but for all dis- 
tressed animals. The keeper of this refuge understands the 
langTiage of the brutes, which includes differences of dialect 
not hindering communication even between birds and dogs by 
the help of some Ulysses among them who is versed in the 
various tongues, and puts in the needed explanations. Said 
keeper overhears his refugees solacinc their evenings by tell- 
ing the story of their experiences, and finally acts as editor 
of their autobiopaphies. I imagine my long-loved fellow, 
creature, the ugly dog, telling the sorrows and the tender 
emotions of gratitude which have wrought him into a sensitive 
soul. The donkey is another cosmopolitan sufferer, and a 
greater martyr than Saint Lawrence. If we only knew what 
fine motives he has for his meek endurance, and how he loves 
a fnend who will scratch his nose 1 

«A1) this is not worth anything except to make you feel how 
much better a plan you can think of. 

"Only you must positively write this book which every- 
body wants -this book which will do justice to the share our 
'worthy fellow-laborers' have had in the groaning and tra- 
vailing of the world towards the birth of the right and fair 

But you must not do it without the 'sustenance of labor' 
— I don t say ' pay,' since there is no pay for good work. Let 
Mr. . be blest with the blessing of the unscrupulous. I 
want to contribute something towards helping the brutes, and 



TODTHm STUDIES AND FBIENDSniPa «U 

write the needed book myse fTt I fL '""r^- ' «»»'» 
««^th.t you will not reSthe duty .^*^ """ "^' y°" <"">. 

irath::;dr:CrEL's':^^^^^^^^ -y be 

la teaching children, and aWrlLe th« l^ '^°"' '"P"'^*' 
, •" The Wounded Bird ' is irfect „? 1^"^"}°° '''''«■ 
is the best for a larger work You ° »""*' ""* ''^^ '''"d 
ia an exceptional c^e fT;.nyZZZ JT''^'^^ '»■«' '* 
for children without putting^ thL f ^ "' '° ''"^ ^^'' 
as devout religion. And you are one ome"'""^'^ ''^«""«"* 
I am quite sure, from what vnn h! V ""^P'-onal cases, 
the thing which is s«U wanted to L' . "' '^^ ^""^ '"'° ^° 

-iptn't :f s htr ^srr^ ^'^ f -<*«' -d 

much later period, not onlgive "n id^ fT^ ''""*" "^ » 
Bray's literary pursuits but of f h. i • ^f ^''^ '"**"™ "^ *f"- 

patible with the scZ of th« ""^Jf ^-^atter than is com- 

best-known books e^^titled .tCZ""'";/" °°« °^ "«' 
makes the daring attemrTtl, Thoughts m Aid of Faith,' she 

her mode orThougrX^n.T "'' '?'""°" °^ ^'ig'""' 
the mystical. For the p^se"? *L " °^ *''" '"'^''tifie and 
very few women .t' Ce'tnt^^rZ 1"^ °"* °/ *"« 
losophy; and, curiously enough W If • """* °^ P*"'- 
should be a feminine method in ml* f ""^ " *'^*' *•""« 

masculine, the sexes, accordrnVtothT,?^^,'''"^^ '«" ^' » 
their counterpart in reS fnH »«8«lar theory, finding 

bercd that George EHot^i" one of T"'' '' ''^^ "^ ^"'^•"^ 
that women should endeavor to „!>« ""'T' " "^ "P*"'"" 
»ine contribution, trthe [nte ^^.1 '°'°«.'J'«ti"«tively femi- 
raying. "Let the who e fi ^^te^''^, '^^y engage in, 
« well as to man, and thtn°^tS'-Sir p^lit rC 



ri: 



' >l 






*** OKOROE KLIOT. 

diioord aad repulsion between the seiei, will be found to be » 
neceiMiy complement to the truth and beauty of life. Then 
we shall have that marriage of minda which alone can blend 
all the hues of thought and feeling in one lovely rainbow of 
promise for the harvest of happiness." Something of the 
same idea lies at the root of much in Miss Hennell's mystical 
disquisitions. -.j-.iawu 

This circumstantial account of the circle to which Miss 
Evans was now introduced has been given, because it con- 
sisted of friends who, more than any others, helped in the 
growth and formation of her mind. No human being, indeed, 
can be fully understood without some knowledge of the oom- 
panions that at one time or other, but especially during the 
period of development, have been intimately associated with 
his or her life. However vastly a mountain mav appear to 
loom above u« from the plain, on ascending to its "summit on. 
always finds innumerable lesser eminences which all help in 
making up the one imposing central effect And simUarly in 
the world of mind, many superior natures, in varying degrees, 
all contribute their share towards the maturing of that 
exceptional intellectual product whose topmost summit is 
genius. 

The lady who first introduced Marian Evans to the Brays 
was not without an object of her own, for her young friend — 
whose religions fervor, tingad with evangelical sentiment was 
as conspicuous as her unusual learning and thoughtfulness — 
seemed to her peculiarly fitted to exercise a beneficial in- 
fluenoe on the Eosehill household, where generally unoriJiodox 
opinions were much in vogue. 

Up to the age of seventeen or eighteen Marian had been 
considered the most truly pious member of her family, beinir 
earnestly bent, as she says, " to shape this anomalous English 
Christian life of ours into some consistency with the spirit 
and simple verbal tenor of the New Testament." "I was 
brought up," she informs another correspondent "in the 
Church of England, and have never joined any other religious 
society; but I have had close acquaintance with many dis- 
■enters of various sects, from Calvinistio Anabaptists to 



TOUTHFUL 8TCD«8 AND PKIENDSHIPa ,„, 

UnitarimM." Her inn.. ii#. ... ». • 

»ive unitjr »nd.«notity to the oono^n!^^ "^ '.^"' ''^'«'' •»'<»'W 
.wa.a "that reoogaUion of ,o3rt:'J.'r' 'j'"'"' '"""W 
>^^» mere -ati.f.otion of ,elf. whUh 1 1? l** ^''f?./°' '^>°''d 
aldiWon of a ereat ™nf™T i ■ """ ™°«^ We what the 

time ^y'^nXulZ^jSnTAZTt::'''V''''" ^* -« 
ditiOM of . religion life "rth /llTh k """ ""•"'"»' o°n- 
nature .he flung her whole lo^ f, ! vehemence of an ardent 
the teaching of ChViaTianitn * r""'"""" ""^eptaMoe of 

asoetioiam. ^"""'"""'y. oarrymg her zeal to the pitch of 

whSeTrunUr^Xltrt^hin ''" '^^ °' '"-*«-. 
E izabeth Evan. (whoWe ^1,^°^ *? 'J*^ '''^ '""• Mr. 
with Dinah Morri.) wTa %^^'"^ *° ■» largely identified 
time been a noted prea^er but h. ^'.'^'^'"'' ^'^'^g at one 
vm,.t, hardly thought her d^testrlir''' "\" * "^'^^ Cal- 
fame aunt paid her a visit .o^r °* *°°"»1'- When thi. 
Ml. Marian^ view. hl^^rZyZ'^ '^'«""»''''' »' ^^ole ! 
formation, and their interco^^w^ f'^,"*.'' "'"»?•«'« ''»".- 
for the young evangelical oXfa^ vh!.m'""* '^"^"^ i 
•n clerical circle., wa. now in^wW .h J^*^ ^^ " ^"'o^te 
asa-'crudeetateof freethintiL . 'j^ '^'"""'«'» -^^ooribed 
-nth^n,. Which .he Sr^ ^^^^^^^^^ 

=rciritai"dtf '=— - - 

their vitality; yeta br^ak wHh an inT*f f "* ^"^ """^ '"St 
which a thousand tender J.i?"'"t"*'?.^°™°^'^''«f to 
trophe .he shrank from whH ^L ^^T. ^" '"" * '»*^- 
tal uncertainty and trouble In^" °"' * ^""^ °f men- 
questionings, it happened that the 7*^"*^. "^ *''«''« '"''""i 



h 



UXll 



OIOBOX EUOT. 



her in this oriiit of her .piritu«l life, and iha found it 
•n iutenw wlief to M no long., l^J„d T rS^non. J, 

Sip '"'^""^ p^-ptionfwith. palm':? 

The antagonism ihe met with In certain quarten the looi.! 
p.r.eoutjou from which ,l>e h«l much to .X"™^^ 
re.pon«bIe tor .ome of the tha^r,, cauatio .W wTth wWo'? 

Minster ii«n«u> ,he mainly eipresaed the thought, which 
S ^h ',%•"" ^^ '^ '''P°*'"°° "''• encountered auS 
ti^lef . W w^' ~ "■ " ""^P^"' '" 'he brilliant paper en' 
«!h. .. '^'"'*" *'"' Other-Worldlinee.,' which^talns 
•uoh a scathing passage as the following • contains 

and sor^w. of o" £n'' "" ^^""^ P»rti"P«'ion in the joy. 
ana sorrows of our fellow-men, a magnanimous acceptance of 
privation or .uffering for oars^Ir^ ■ when 'n, fhTT^S-l- 
of good to others, in I word, the ex J S and int nStlo" 

contend that they have no more direct relation to tbe Zief 

that to some minds^hl ^^V<^t^:/\^Zn Z'ZZtot 
human morality _ that we are here for a little while and then 
vanish away, that this earthly life is ah f.at Triven to our 
oved ones, and to our many buffering follow-men^^lL, nla^r 
the fountains of moral emotion than the concep ion of H- 
tended existence.-. . . To us it is matter of unmixed reioio- 
•ng tha this latter necessity of healthful life is independen 
of theoogical ink, and that its evolution is insured in th« 
interaction of human souls as certainly as the evolut "n o? 
science or of art, with which, indeed, it is but a tw n "a, 
melting into them with undefinable limits." ^' 

»h i7''»^ """v* ■ '""^'table that her changed tone of mind 

SfndlafrhTtT."' "'•' ^''"■"'-'1 ^'■-''"ot 
Marian, and that the backsliding of so exemplary a member 

should afford matter for scandal in many a ZiZ ciXnd 



rov:a,VL studies a».> friendships. x„ui 

neighborlyintiiDaoybetweenth8tw„„ ^"'^ ,'«d been muoU 
there wa. only fl/e vel™' Hi» '"" J'°"°8 ladie., and though 
|Uw.y.in.pi„5 herCw'^'XiS^^-" ""■"' ^-'" 
leotiuU superiority. Yet h.r «» i °' '"' *' *■" i"««l- 
with .11 human life which wL theT^^^'V "y"?''''')' 
character — wae even thl • '.'"'"S^t element of her 
trouble of Ma^', We i^'iT """'tible 'hat every little 
.udden dUcoveTy of theTr dinlC* ,'° 'V J'' ' "'8' ^ut the 
came with the shock of a JhunL/^ ""■"* ^'''« '" "'"Sdel " 
hot argument paeTed between th;''' "? ""■ P*""**- ^''''h 
oontrover.iali,rbut the'oi^e cli^^l!'!,^?"'' .'"' y°"">ful 
by a triumpha;t reference to the H ""* '''°'« I""'""" 
throughout the world « an ir™fuihl.''''*T? 1^ *'" •'""' 
«piration of the Bible In sdte ^f .J^'""^ °' '^e divine in- 

-ligiou, question., M^, Evanrwa/.'utdlo r""'"" 
the minister's dn-ghter Ies»nn. f„ >il *f° °" 8"''"8 

tinued for two or?h«e 4a™ ,i« ^™'"'' '''''"' ^^^ <">"- 
taken this labor of ove twieel' tJZ'"^ generously under- 
the shape of her young riendrheJd T'" ""l' ^"""^"^ '"'"' 
in those days -that she must hav«^ ~ P^^nology being rife 
But, better than lanBua™, »?. I k!*v''"*°' ""''"'''"■'ding, 
always cutting short S '1^7?' ^"^ ""o ^"'"o ot tini. 
Altogether t/e wonderfu7 TenJ^h if ^ "'"P'^ ''^°""«f ''' 
fested itself even at this earW^L • "l ?«"<"«'"'? mani- 
"ion it left on her pupi!?s l,Z.^ 'n the indelible impres- 
""naming graven on ^a. on .tone ^' "-7 °.* ber sayings 
one day twitting Mary's t^ JelT ..if I ' """"""«' '''""> 
"Weareveryapttomea^uXfri '"'^■'»*^*™ "he remarked, 
of our perfoTmrnce ."TwhenTn ??h''T'"PJ.'*"°" *"«'^'"i 
the meaning of Faust ?" she rUi^d'-Th:""' " '^'''"" 
meaning of the universe" WhT ' I " °* *» 'be 
i^yer- with her younronoil Z I "f '"« ' »'«"««'<«'»■. 
■ife-like the chaSrs'^ d' '^.^nftr'' '"-j; how 

AnH ettdia';::: tz''-' «■? - -«'~'iifr'^ 



r1 



XXXIT 



GEOEGE ELIOT. 



Wi« tt!t nn """/' *'{»« """sequence of her change of views 

dom Ignorance gives itself airs of knowledge and selfithnTl. 
turning its eyes upwards, calls itself religb^' |he tfthe 
other hand, after a painful struggle wanted tn ZTl 
from the old forms of worship, and rrfZdIo ,o ^ .^^ 

ingr^Td^-^et wCcTrn^^^^^ 

r ira-tii'rh-r i^^^^^^ 

froTb^gLtgl S™'"' '° "'^ ^-^^ ^'"« throug^agaln 

They met daily and in tht'S " W^S : Te'^ 
nature expanded no less than her intellect. Although striken J 
ordinary acquaintances by an abnormiil ^.^'f v ^'"^'"8 
Pletolyather ease she at^t^ef Sled Zf^i^^r, 
gayety, irradiated by the unexpected flashesof a wi 'th^e m 



TOUTH.CL STUBIE8 AND PRIBNDSHIPS x„. 

jorld. For her conveUioa wL Z^^r"" ?°='"°» ■» *»"« 

depth, and comprehensiveness Tat alT^t '". ^"" °^ •'^''™. 

atale and oommonrplaoe. Cy were th^^.^"".^'^" ^een^ed 

days between Mr. Bray and Marian I ''"""'»«i°'"" in those 

quently broken off in fieree dSutron/^""' ^""^ '^""S'' f'e- 

began again qnite amicab^ the next TT^' '^^^ ''^^'^y^ 

ercised considerable influence on ht . ^/*^ P""'**''/ «- 

his impressible period of lU^ IZn u ^ ^"^^-^'^ -"ind at 

losophy was first roused by a^sa^^tT " *"'"''°" '° PW- 

^ned acquirements in thi! i^^^^^ ''"'^ ^i«. and his 

"^^^ Br^;s St *° ^^^^o:x-' '''-^' ^^ 

Jfecessity,'^hTproble.S'disTu:''^^°"' ^'^ '^Wlosophy of 
which have occupldthMefZhLf"^'\^ "^"^ «« 'hose 
Comte in his "Positive PhZph^'^''" °['''« ^ay: Augusta 
of Civilization; ' and Mr. Herberf V. "" ^" '^'''"'•y 

The theory that, as an indzvSl '"^ °n '° ^'^ 'Sociology.' 
■nuoh subject to law as any oTth« 0.^'"""^'^' ■°^" "^ 
was one of those magnificent «„= "^P"- ^-f^es in nature, 
world of thought. M^nv °^-„^T '"""^ revolutionize the 
-^fferentcalibre^were^rtr^ng^" f^^'^"' --tries, o 
fdge ttere was on this suh^7ctfn ^r^J .""*'"* ^^** '^»°wl- 
into demonstration. To what extend t'T*'' '•yP°*I'«»« 
based his 'PhUosophy of Keces3itv^° I ^^^^ "^^ I'are 
" bow much wa^ mere^ 3,1"/^ P'"'*''"' ™««^'«b, 
fources we cannot here inqui?^ En™ \ I?™ """t^-nporar; 
bodied in it represented some S th« *? *''*' '''^ ''J«'" «■"" 
J«e. and contributed therefore lo^l H^f I'*"! *°"Sht of the 
George Eliot's mind, and to th« ■ \*? *''" formation of 
displayed in the handHng of nhiinf ^.•''''/°^ '^' ?'«««»% 

In 1842 the 8em,ation efeald bS sf *°^''''- 
bad even extended to so remote a H^/ .*"'"■ -^**«' ■^«« 



xxiW 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



I 



Parkes of Birmingham tTv! !^' '""^ '*'« ^^- J°seph 
their enthusia^Tto Se amonTtf* '" .*"" ^"" ^^^'^ »* 
be required for tCpu pose m" T^f"*' '""" '^'«^' 
in this enterprise' proposed tW S?r"' w- '^'"^'''8 spirit 
undertaken by Mi^s Brabant th« ''^.^'afon should be 

^r Brabant, a^ohl. deeply' versed Tf "^'''T^^'^' °* 
who was in friendly corresDondInn! Ik 'i'''''°Sical matters, 
in Germany and with rl^^^f^ ^ TJ"" ^""^'''^ »■«» P^^lua 

lady in qu^lstion, hou^h'stllT in he^f " '=°«'''"'^- ''''> 
fitted for the ta^k as sh« h,/ , . '^'°°' ""^ Peculiarly 
Baurs erudite w^ftL^s on the! 'f^ u*''"'^'"*^'' '"-"^ "^ 
But when she ha^' tfe Tl^utlnTT If'of tt 1 1 ^"f"''" 
her learned labors camp t-r, „„ ^ °"' volume, 

became engaged t mHeZuZfr^^ "T"'"^'""' ^ ^'^^ 
ments joined much winnW h, ' *° F^** '°«"*^ ^'"^1°- 

her marriage iththT, ^ !, ^*°"^ °* '"^"'^e'-- And on 
task as too^aborLs ' """°"' '^^ ^'^ *° '«'-q"«t her 

^^^r^is£HEHH^-'- 

on going to a public ball w>,»~ I tnvoUty by insisting 

pointed, as partners wS^erJ 3";rce"7r:h'T. ?" ^''""^ 
bered that Marian Evans wY/n^f; ^*/'""'W be remem- 

at this time, but, though shrhjl/^?'^-"^'^^ ?«"« old 
friends already though! her a wld.rf.j; ^°'"' ^"^"'"S' ^'^ 
seems to have had fny real v™?hf f "^""^i"- ^^^ "«^« 
appearance greatly tmproved^with ^ '"'' r"^ ^'' P*"""^' 
finest natures, it should beZ t""^^ ? '' °"'y *" ">« 
added beauty ;nd distinction •TA'?1"'^' *''^' *«« ^'^^^ ^'^ 
then worked its way to tl.ekrfLlh"'''' P*"'i'^"* ^^'^ •>«« 
pre8sion,and to some extenf ^ fl ^^°^ '^°^^'^ "=« ex- 



^ " ,1.:. 



roUTHFUL STUDIES AND FRIENDSHIPS. xxxvii 
»oft pale-brown hair worn in rinuleta W« i, ^ 
sivo, her features powerful jmd Z„ ^ ,, ' ^^^ ''^ "-^ 
shapely, the jaw si^Xw square ffrl' i" """""^ '"»« ''"' 
certain delicacy of outline An/? ? r"*"' ^^^ ^^^«g a- 
not help to relieve th„ fV™' '°°^ "^ <=°l°"ng did 

the complexion SgSew":l/r""r "' «'^"'='"«' 
play of expression and ^e wonderful "Liv^T'T^^^^ '"« 
which increased with aw TZ o ""''' '"J' °f the mouth, 

countenance in cirious ' ^St w.uT'^ ""°"l *" '^« 
eyes, of a gray-blne constenTv T ''^ ^'^amework. Her 

some as intensely bluVothfit./r^'°? "" ''°'°'' »'"'«"» 
weresmalland notZl'nHf 1 ^k ^ P^"' ^"shed-out gray, 

animated in 'oT.^^:^^'':^!^'':^^^^^^^ 
seeming in a manner to twnsfieure ft So^ k ""^"'^ ^'^"' 
case, that a young lady X, ifJ^V '"''' ""'" ^'i* 

versation with hfr came al """^cjoyed an hour's con- 

pression that s^^ZllS't 'V^'' '''" '''^ ''"- 
George Eliot again whe^ ,h! ' ^"^'-'^'^'ds, on seeing 

hardlybelieyehfrtobe hestn,/'^ "•" ^^"''''S. she could 
nature disclosed Lelf in hV,^! P""""' ^'"^ '"^™ of her 
latter recalling tCt of LrlT L^''^ '" ^'' ^"i"*- the 
a soul that hSonce Led nanZkl"^ ^"^ ^"'"^ "^ 
and deep, yibrating with sympathf '" ^"P" '' "^ 1°'^ 

Mr. Bray, an enthusiastic belieyer in „k 
much struck with the grand ^Z^i phrenology, was so 
took Marian Eyans to London t^h,' °^ ^^' ^^"-^ ^^^* he 
that, after that of Napofeon 1^^'*'^™- Rethinks 
development from brow to Irnf '^ ''"'^'"* ^^^ '^'gest 

similarity of type between r ^"^ P^^on's recorded. The 

«.la'shrbeenXt:,rpo&:ut "°f '"l^""^ «*^^"- 
natures may have led her if unnnn T '""""^ '° ">eir 
epoch of Florentine life in which Z,"^"^J *° ''^"'' *''^* 
a part. " '^hieh he played so prominent 

th "irpSs-:: :^c;i'tiiert ' ^r° ^- p^°p'« 

figure, although thin anrslLf I • *° ''"« really was, her 

without a certain stur^i^'f'mat"%T"-P'''"'' ^"'^ ""* 
jn health, being delicately stLg and of .T ".7'"°^""^ 
temperament In youth tie S^i^bk^/Lf LT^;: 



xxzviii 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



and weaknesses of a ™oulkrivlr ' **"* ^•"''eptibilitieB 
all her mental Lt vUvTh" veui f organization. With 

a life which m^ h^^e heldt dlr.'^'fr'^.*'""*''""^ W«. 
days she was kno^ by he, friS "t?i°' ""'l' ? '" """"^ 
tears." ' mends "to weep buoketfuls of 

Marian EvanLent'Cgftrh' ^wtr^f T'^^ 
many painful experiences, before sh^Z^i. ^^u''*^ "' *''"'"8^ 
government of her later yea« 'i'^'^f^^'od the moral self, 
likely that she could have entered w^^ J'°'' '' " ^"-"^ 
8ion into the most intr^te tTndil™ of f,^«P » """'P^hen- 
That, of course, was to a ^r^ *^ . ""^ ^"°«° l^eart. 
symp'athy bein^ Te strongs 'X^ 'oThf T^^*'^' 
She flung herself, as it were intri.h ,• °'°'^' "*'»~- 
affairs, their hopeMhe r so^ows her own '1' T'^''^ ""«' 
of identifying herself with 77 ' , ' "^"^ '''^ PO'^er 
the effect Vamafett aH Pr^'^^^^^ «>■"« "ear had 
If friends went tTrrnthpfr^f ''f ^"•"'■C'eatures. 
only that she entered with . i"',.*'''^ ''""''^ fi""! °ot 
minute concerns, but that h^ deep feeling into their most 
beyond their wrsonJ i .^^ gradual degrees, she lifted them 
her presence rantn^h?;'' fV"** '^''^ ''°^^ ^^'"- 
This sympathy w^ cZV ^""^ "^T^ ^«^« "^ ""^d. 
detecting and res^ndii/f ^ T^ ""'^^ ^«' f'«'"% of 

Socrates in her manner rfedtinfww'"'"^'^ resembled 
thought might be latent in the ZTr^*' '^P*"'? f°' 
with: were it only a sLlI ^°^^! "''« <»'°« i" "ontact 
never rest till she had ftund ouTin whT""?"'*'' "'"' ^^-^ 
lar man differed fror other me„ nfv* ^ '^* P*^'""" 
rather educed what was in of hT.K •' '''^''- ^'^^ ^^""^y- 
them, showing murkrndt' *''r '"P'^'^^d herself on 

=. tS £e^ «rf ^- - '^-- - - 

Pledge Of :c:^xr^^'^^ -^ -- 



TBAlfSLATION OP STRAUSS, ETC. 
CHAPTEE IV. 



zxxix 



TBANSLAtlOV OF 8TBAC88 xvn ,. 

while It was settled that M^ X l"''^- ^» *« Mean- 
translationofDr.StrausslxX^"'"'' should continue he° 
duotion to literature wm in a ena^' ■^'"'^ !>«' first intro' 
proved her admirably fiied for tL.T*^?*^'- ^he result 
this searching and volumfnot *ott "' ^°' Perversion of 
of clear nervous English ST. ™'"*"'^ » masterpiece 

'ng the spirit of thTS^* '^ZT """^ '"''"""^ rend^^ 
undertaking, requiring TtrgelaJn" ^* ^"d laborious 
e-ergy, quite apart fr!m the fec^ss^/' ^f?'"'"' ^'". ^"d 
On this occasion, to fit herself ^o^^T**; qualifications, 
test. Marian taught herself rconsMer^hl^^ ^°' ^*' ^^gJ^'y 
But she groaned, at times, uXt^"' ^"°""' °* Hebrew, 
which had necessarily to 4 enduL^ '','""'"'« °f the toil 
Imquish what must often have !i!';'''l* ^^-^P'^d to re- 
drudgery.. The active interert J/"' ^""'" intolerable 
fnends, however, tided her over l«r''°""'««'»""'' °f ier 
^ment, and after three yelrs '/t.'^r'"''' °^ '''=«our- 
the t«nslation was finally Set^/!!"fr '^PP^oation, 
Dr. (then Mr.) John Chapman in 184fi t. ^'°"«''* °"' W 
to assume that the composition nf ^'," Probablysafe 

George Eliot half the eCand t^^Z"^ *" "ovelf cost 
had done Yet so badly is this kbd of r^" '^^ translation 
aerated, that twenty pounds wi th«. '."^ ^"''^ ^«'nu. 
cost three years of hard Ta Jr^ ^''^ """» Paid for what had 

Indeed, by this time, most of th. . , 
onginally guaranteed hTsIm „t ''^' ^"^"''^ ^ho bad 
and publication of the ' Life of r«« T^ t"' ^^' translation 
gotten the matter; and ha^ it n„"I T ^'^ conveniently fo° 
Mr. Joseph Parked wW^,^,";*!^;'' for the generosUy o" 
^nds, ^ho i„„^^ '^^^ long the MS tr'^T"' *'"' """^'^T 
lain dormant in a drawer at^oles^t' T '*'°" "''S''* '""^ 
-lesmu, It no sooner saw the 



" GEORGE ELIOT. 

m!rL^„7tr'' '^^ a'T^ '""' 'e«°8°"'"i the exceptional 
merits of the work. And for several years afterwards Mi^s 

s^rssrx'rsi.'^ ^'^^"^ ■'°'"'° - '•■« ^-^^^^^^ <>' 

hon, Miss Evans went to stay for a time with her friend^ 
fa h r, Dr. Brabant, who sadly felt the loss of his daughter's 
mtelhgent and enlivening companionship. No doubt the 
soaetyof this accomplished scholar, described by Mr. Grote 
as "a vigorous self-thinking intellect," wa^ no less congenid 
than instructive to his young companion; while her sinrjar 

gr:;fult1r/°t i^;''""^'^ womanly ways were^: 
grateful to the lonely old man. There is something verv 
attractive in this episode of George Eliot's life. It fecS 
rt/r.^ ^ ^ recurring situation in her novels, particularly 
that touching one of the self-renouncing devotiok with Xch 
he ardent Eomola throws herself into her XtTifarher's 
learned and recondite pursuits. a^'i-wo latners 

.J^^7. "i*^ " ^^"*'' ''"*'*" *° a° intimate friend in 1846 
sClH **;' '■•anslation of Strauss wa^ finished, whicri 

this delightfully humorous mystification of her friends Miss 
Evans pretends that, to her gratification, she has ^7 had 
a visit from a real live German professo^, whorm^^ 2"on 
was encased in a still mustier coat. This learned Xs^n!™ 
ha. come over to England with the singi; purpT/e o^ettffg 
his voluminous writing, translated int^ English. There arf 
at least twenty volumes, all unpublished, owing to the enviou^ 
machinations of rival, authors, none of ihem t^reatl of any 
thing more modern than Cheops, or the invention of the 

fh^tif ■ 'f""™ * ^'^^ and translator in one But 

though, on inquiry he finds that the ladies engaged °nt ans' 
ation are legion, they mostly turn out to be u^fy incompe 

sits" The""" rrf' *° ""'' -quirements^in oXr 
respects The qualifications he looks for in a wife besides I 

thorough acquainunce with English and German, befnglr^ 
hunwitha moderate aUowance of tobacco and ScZaS. 



TBAUSIATION OF STRAUSS, ETC. 



xli 
Mter defraying the expense of nriatin» ., u u 
^S^PW, a.on« Zen /e^^S t'£:eX'o?a"t 

In Miss Erans, so she runs on fi,« » • • 
his utmost wishes realized and »!fl^'"°* P™^^'""" finds 
spot; thinking that it may be her ,LT>f'' *" ^'' °° ^^^ 
him with equal celeritT i,d w % !t ''^^'"^' ^^^ a^^epts 
objecting to\ fore£et'irL„ced .^ "'• '''V^°"8'' «*'°-8ly 
the same reason. The Ws "nt ti'* w> •=°"««"' fo' 
future husband shall take hef out ol En? . " ""*' ^" 
phmate and drearier inhabitants ^hf^' '''*^ ''^ '^™''^ 

r?lae^rnJ?-;° ^ ^ -'-^^ffist 
'^^"o:^'-^/^^^^ --est man- 

the very Sisyphus' o^^tttS' rtft'^'r ^'"^'•~° 
marry her parohment-bound su tor for t), I' *°°' ''''^*°8 t" 
«g in his abstruse mental laC 1 h, K^^-^ °^ co-operat. 
of the simple-minded xCthoT' ^' * *^' adumbration 

But these sudden stirrines af- «„•„;« i ■ 
vent Miss Evans from unde^k2" T" ""°" ^'^ »°* P'«- 
her last, if „ot so laboriZ Shl^ °*^" ^^' si-^ilar to 
Ludwig Feuerba<,h's X","^- J%»?7 ««' ^»»"t translating 
philosopher, who kepTZf from w *""•*■ ™« -J"*"? 
dwelt apart in a wood, tharhe m?^^?^^ '°"^ ^°''°'«' »d 
tions of theology and metaphysics W.^.^T *° ^^^^^'^ "!«««- 
had created a g4t sensatTnrhis ^hil'o^ v ' f'"^''^^^^, 
Germany. U„iike his countrvm.n P^V'osophical criticism in 
subjects are usually rnveSTn ' I^°''-^"''"8« °° "^ese 
that their most perilonsTde^l " T f° ™P«°etrable mist 
of the multitudeVFeaerUch by h s Wn'''''^""''' *^« heads 
g?age and luminouaness of Moos.h-nn """."'^^ness of Ian- 
h« meaning home to the aver^°'J^ •^'"i'»'«'i to bring 
^oount of the 'Essence of Christ^itv ' '^k ^'- <^*'-°«"'« 
Bntannica,' admirably concise^ H^ f ' 'Encyclopedia 
conveying i„ the fewest Z^ l'^' "1^ 'l ''"°'«"«™' "» 
treatise, where Feuerbaeh Thows lll^ °^ *''''' "*^°"'"' 
s^ow* that every article of Chris- 



xlii 






GEORGE ELIOT. 






ti^ belief corresponds to some instinct or necessity of man's 
nature, from wliich he infers that it is the creation and em! 
bodiment of some human wish, hope, or apprehension. . . 
Following up he hint of one of the oldest Greek philosophers, 
he demonstrates that religious ideas have their oounteV' 

Suet" ° '""^"' """^ "'""°'"' "^' ""^y """* ^ it* 
The translation of the 'Essence of Christianity' was also 
published by Mr. Chapman in 1864. It anoeared in h1^ 
'Quarterly Series,' destined "to consist of woTs by 1 Led 
nh2o:r°H-^v"'f''"' ^"''''^'"^ "■« subjecL of 'theoTogyt 
P^thT i^ f f """"■' *■"* ^^^ ^^^'°'y of opinion^: 
s^?.««i^, i^"'',?" *°""'' translation had been so eminently 

work. But there was no demand for it in England, and Mr 
Chapman lost heavily by its publication. 

About the same period Miss Evans also translated Spinoza's 

DeDeo for the benefit of an inquiring friend. But her E^g! 

stlTfr" f t\'f'^^'' "^ "<" undertaken till the yl 

herself to the severe labor of rendering one philosophi Jwork 

ei^ h! • /"'^* '°"'^ °* '•'" "'°«' ^'t^l P'oWems which 
engage the mind when once it has shaken itaelf free from 
purely traditional beliefs, rather than on securing f» he "eW 
aSLrr.r'.fT**^'- ^"' ^" admirable%ranslat?ons 
J^^ I ^°'""' °^ ** like-minded, and she became 
^ tTme •°°"' °^ *^' "°'" distinguished men of 

he J^nlTi^l?**^^ ter father's health now began to fail, causing 
n!,» 1, . ^"' """^ *°"*'>'- ^* ^o-na P«"°d during his ill- 

^S^Afr^'p "*^" many years afterwards, she says, "The 
littTetf ^"""^'=°Vy°" ""fading must be the series of 
wh re I J^"r! ^°" '*"* ■"" *° ''^"y *» the Isle of Wight, 
Where I read it at every interval when my father did not want 

ToLrf T '°"/ *^'* *^' '°°8 °°^«I '^^ not longer. ItTa 

wl have fiSLn oTr'\""""« ''"'^ «"i°^"« ^^''^^o- 
we Have fallen on an evil generation whg ivould not read 









TRANSLATION OP 8THAU88, ETC. 



preasnt admiration is mori trSi^^^^^ 

ph^es about their o»r„ classics » ' ^^^ '*"«« »«* 

ai.^rtCuro7::a:L?kr.^ '^^^ ^" •^-^'^'o' - 

.everal hour, of each day "fhe mus t^s h ""L' *" '"" ^» 

versed in his manner ot mine il,!l ^^^ '*''°'°«' deeply 

bued to delight all her Ufe and in ."'\'" """'' ''^<' ''°"- 

•°8 of onr sympathies wWch a pieture7f 1°' "' '?" "'■'«°- 

o.^L..ieMue.lehaclit.s Z^-:^Z^^J^^:?^- 

W ?rr::ao:„^?S^^^^^^ ^^ the death of 

seemed to afford consolation to her ;,i.f i '"''"'^^ °°tWng 
two had kept house togX and?h ' t °l "«'" y*»" '^esf 
had always subsisted between them M^'* """""' '^^''tion 
her father's memory. AsQeoree Hin. ^f '"'' '«'«'"'<"J 
her w ks everything assooUtefwfth h ^VnT'' '"Jf"''" '" 
those happy times when stanHin^ w ,° ''*■' "WMhood; 

she nsed t^ be driven\ Wm ^^0^" '""/"«'«'''> k'^ees 
groups of inhabitants were L dUtiloH^'^^ '"^•^'«' '''«>'>« 
as If they belonged to different r!.^/".'"^ imagination 
Evans, however, was not suffered toLT "^ *'"' 'f'°'^-" Miss 
tender friends who cared for ^ert.°/'"'°'"^°'^<'- The 
tour to the Continent ?nhoLtha^,L"?'' """^ ^^^'^'^ a 
associations would soften hw grief "^^^ °^ ""^"^ "^d 

Ita^y Khn';;t::;ST£«°1f *» ^^-^-land and 
hackneyed as it now is To so tn^.^"'" ^^^ ^^ »<>' «o 
M.8S Evans there must have b^en^an tTl^ "^ "^'^'^ as 
first sight of the Continent B^t the ,n*' T'''' '° '^s 
dispel her grief, and she continnpH -^ T ^'^ °°t ^^e™ to 
that Mrs. Bray almost regretted havL'J,' 'V '"^ »P*"ta 
soon after her bereavemfnt. Her tl"^„f ''r ^«' »b«>ad so 
passes which they had to cross w^fK'*""' *' '^« si-idy 
either hand -so that it seemrd m S a^'f '^'T ^"""'°« °° 
" as If a f ise step must send 



t^mm^sm. 



XliT 



QBOROE ELIOT. 



them rolling into the abyu — waa bo overpowering that the 
aubhme spectacle of the snow-clad Alps seemed comparatively 
to produce bnt little impression on her. Her moral triumph 
over this constitutional timidity, when any special occasion 
arose, was all the more remarkable. One day when crossing 
the Col de Balme from Martigny to Chamounix, one of the 
side-saddles was found to be badly fitted, and would keep 
turning round, to the risk of the rider, if not very careful, 
slipping off at any moment. Marian, however, insisted on 
having this defective saddle in spite of the protest of Mrs. 
Bray, who felt quite guilty whenver they came to any 
perilous places. 

How different is this timidity from George Sand's hardy 
spirit of enterprise ! No one who has read that captivating 
l('i>k, her Lfttres (fun Voyageur, can forget the great French- 
T.t uan's description of a Swiss expedition, during which, 
while encumbered with two young children, she seems to 
have borne all the perils, fatigues, and privations of a toil- 
some ascent with the hardihood of a mountaineer. But it 
sLonld not be forgotten that Miss Evans was just then in a 
peculiarly nervous and excitable condition, and her frequent 
fits of weeping were a source of pain to her anxious fellow- 
travellers. She had, in fact, been so assiduous iu attendance 
on her sick father, that she was physically broken down for 
a time. Under these circumstances an immediate return to 
England seemed unadvisable, and, when her friends started 
on their homeward journey, it was decided that Marian should 
remain behind at (Geneva. 

Here, amid scenes so intimately associated with genius — 
where the " self-torturing sophist, wild Bousseau," placed 
the home of his ' NomMe Hilaise,' and the octogenarian Vol- 
taire spent the serene Indian summer of his stirring career • 
where Gibbon wrote his ' History of the Decline and Fall of 
the Boman Empire ; ' where Byrou and Shelley sought ref- 
uge from the hatred of their countrymen, and which Madame 
de StaSl complainingly exchanged for her beloved Eue du 
Bao — here the future author of 'Eomola' and 'Middle- 
march ' gradually recovered under the sublime influences of 
Nature's healing beauties. 






TRAN8LATI0V OP 8TKAUSS. ETC. 



For about eight months Miss Ewn. i- j 
house. "Le Plongeau," uearOenevf R .''l"^ •* • '»*«»ing. 
? quieter retreat iu the family '? an aijl !?'^T" «''^ '<"i°d 
>ng much attached to him i^d h^° t? "' ^l' ° '^"*''' '»«'«»- 
Of the lofty upper Btorie^ o7 tht pT Lff""'^'"^ '" °°'' 
Wue shimmering waters of th" Ike X ^T"' "'^^ "-e 
the awful heights of Mont RiL S'^no'ng far below, and 
enti«, !and.cak.he^ot :Ly Wed'ton:'^ "r^""""* '»>« 
but, ,n isolation from mankind to „i!^ '^?''*'""*' '"" "'"^iea, 
their welfare. Durine thi- stf;^.,'^ f ^i""""' ««''«»«» for 
whose works, .sSllzTc^^; drank deep of Eouaseau 
"npression on her. And when toT"*' '^f' *" ""»«"«« 
French, she remarked thattwa^ worth T '"""* *" ""''y 
guage if only to read him M tT« . '""""« '''»' l^"- 
Probably became familiar^^k wUh th. ^^^ -^"''"^ 
Utopias of St. Simon, Proudhon «n/ .1 ""'«'"^'"">i social 
Having undergone a kiiS of !„?? "'^^ *'"""'' 'Writers. 
«o long ago, she must have fTt "^°'""°° •■"««« "ot 
grilling hopes of li^rty which h^' !'/'"^'^y ^^'h the 
Western Europe in 1^9 Bni- ^"^rT^^^ "^^ »'»'«» of 
out, her nature haS conservative T '"'"' "''^'^^^ Pointed 
progress only as trr^XflvoluZT; ^''^ »»''«ved in 
la one of her most inni.ijl ®^°'""°°' "ot revolution. And 

History of German iife'sJS' '"•'"''' 'T'"^ ^»«°n=^ 
feUare of revolutioniixy attltot Ir^**. ""' *''«"»otab^ 
of view of abstract demc^ratrdL •?^. ^'°'" **" P<>i°t 
the same article she drTws 1 ,tl- °"'*^""''' 'heories." In 
growth of language anrZt'f,"!-'T"*' •^*'^««» the 
tending that 1^X1^^^ uln'-f ^^"^ institutions, con! 
universal language on a raUon.^ L • '^'"'^ '^ """-^'^ct a 

uncertainty, no wUms of id om „^" I" ""'^ """ '""^ ""° 
shimmer of many-hued ^^^^'n^ eumbrons forms, no fitful 

'familiarwithfoKf yeT- L'-r ^"^'^ ""'■^i^""' 
of government which ^rn^Ln"?" *''™P"y *» »'*«' forms 

historical growth, sylratiCu;?;^S'bv"' ": '"'^' "^ 
Besides the fascimUnn., „, 7 """ooo'ea by society. 

nature, the chIZ of s"" ,1 iS '"'' *^* °"*"'''^ ^lory of 

this life at Geneva. In M ST ^'^ "°* '^'"'""K *° 

gentle, refined, and of unns.jal ,r Irfl' f , "^"^ '"P*"""^ "a"- 

unn.,,al mental attainments, she found 




Jisfe 






ilvi 



OlORQE EUOT. 



a highly desinble daily companion. H« waa an artiat by 
profauioD, and it it whispered that he luggeited tome of 
the traita in the character of the delioate-minded Philip 
Wakem in the 'Mill on the Floss.' The only portrait in 
oils which exists of George Eliot is one painted by M. 
D* Albert at this interesting time of her life. She inspired 
him, like most people who came into personal contact with 
her, with the utmost admiration and regard, and, wishing to 
be of some service, he escorted Miss Evans to England on her 
return thither. Curiously enough, M. D' Albert subsequently 
translated one of her works, probably ' Adam Bede,' without 
in the least suspecting who its real author was. 

It is always a shook when vital changes have occurred in 
one's individual lot to return to a well-known place, after 
an absence <.f some duratioo, to find it wearing the same 
unchangeable aspect. One expects somehow that fields and 
streets and houses would show some alteration corresponding 
to that within ourselves. But already from a distance the 
twin spires of Coventry, familiar as household words to the 
Warwickshire girl, greeted the eyes of the returning traveller. 
In spite of all love for her native spot of earth, this was a 
be&vy time to Marian Evans. Her father was dead, the 
home where she had dwelt as mistress for so many yean 
broken up, the present appearing blank -nd comfortless, 
the future uncertain and vaguely terrifying. Jho question 
now was where she shuuld live, what she should do, to what 
purposes turn the genius whoso untried and partially unsus- 
pected powers were darkly agitating her whole being. 

As has been already said, Marian Evans had a highly 
complex nature, compounded of many contradictory impulses, 
which, though gradually brought into harmony as life matured, 
were always pulling her, in those days, in different directions. 
Thus, though shn possessed strong family affections, she 
could not help feeling that to go and take up her abode in 
the house of some relative, where lifn resolved itself into a 
monotonou<< recurrence of petty considerations, something 
after the Qlegg pattern, would be little short of crucifixion 
to her, and, however deep her attachment for her native 
Boil may have been, she yet sighed passionp^tely to break 



TRANSLATION O* STHAUSiJ, ETC. 



xlvii 

together had .ow diverj^ ^^Sv 2^*^ '° "" ^«''^' 
a mutual paatoould bridle o»Tr fh./ ^l °° memorie, of 

Under thLe ciroun.Zrtt^tmt^Tt'Rleh'^r ''*".• 
her to make their home n«r3,. S v "°"'»U presaed 
year, from 1850 t^ mi .^e CmlV*"' '^^ ^^ "»"' " 
hold in fullest .ymS/with her Hl"t?'^«°' '''"""'''^ 
•ided mental aotivitv Z7™ • i I •^*" ^'- ^'»y » "any- 
and hiawife'sTSte"!!"'^ J'lf*"""" "* disposition, 
to soothe and cW nn.*^ ^ ?•' ''*'"^ ""»' '"a"* helped 

just then nea^,;t„rgu„de"Ahe*':r "'""'? '"'"'" ^" 
and feeling she had Inn. ?h u "^^''^^ "^in of thought 

80 struck by the ^r^S"*^""- ^"' I«"°°' '"""^d, was 
eonsu'nVcomin; aXfng^^o Sttf:^'''^^ TT -" 

t^ees, ^^r:z^':^:iZt:;^rr -''^ -'^"^ s 

lating countov with tJfif/^^ v°^ ""^'y '"'°^«d, undu- 
overhVan^^r^i S J^wVL^r '"^^^ 

^.^aCt ^^^mr^thtr-t V- ^'o^^^^^^^^^^^ 

George clb^drot'sedwitn^\''^r'l'^'''" ''-'°''" «•«'«• 

nolo^ at that S otrmn, .fits'tV ''r'P.'^^ "^P^^"" 
Balph Waldo Emerson ^^^1 '*^ *''°"»a'"ls of disciples." 

while on a brief vis t ' =^„'*«'='""°8 *°" ^^ '^is country, 

observed by Mrs C^ en^l^""" ' '^l"*'"*"'""'. and wi 

denly she saw hTm^ f T^l? '" '^" '*»' ^i'l" her. Sud- 

gentfe-maLrdShadendenZ''"^ T' ''^ ''''' l^"*' 
prise. Afterwards in .!^ ^"'^^''''y S^"" him a shock of sur- 

i-aia IS no doubt an instance of the 



xlviii 



OEOROE ELIOT. 



, intense sympathetic adaptiveness of Miss Evans. If great 

I she was not by any means calm at this period, but inwardly 

I U deeply perturbed, yet her nature, with subtlest response, re. 

fleeted the transcendental calm of the philosopher whan 
brought within his atmosphere. 

George Dawson, the popular lecturer, and Mr. Flower were 
more Ultimately associated with the Bosehill household The 
latter, then living at Strattord^on-Avoc, where he was wont to 
entertain a vast number of people, especially Americans, who 
made pilgnmages to Shakespeare's birthplace, is known to the 
world as the benevolent denouncer of " bits and bearing-reins " 
One day this whole party went to hear George Dawson, who 
had made a great sensation at Birmingham, preach one of his 
thrilling sermons from the text "And the common people 
heard him gladly." George Eliot, aUuding to these days as 
late as 1876, says, in a letter to Mrs. Bray : 

"George Dawson was strongly associated for me with Eose- 
hiU, not to speak of the General BaptUt Chapel, where we all 
heard him preach for the first time (to us). ... I have a vivid 

recollection of au evening when Mr. and Mrs. P dined at 

your house with George Dawson, when he was going to lec- 
ture at the Mechanics' Institute, and you felt compassionately 
towards him, because you thought the rather riotous talk wm 
a bad preface to his lecture. We have a Birmingham friend 
whose acquaintance we made many years ago in Weimar, and 
from him I have occasionally had some news of Mr. Dawson 
I feared, what you mention, that his life has been a little too 
strenuous in these latter years." 

On the evening alluded to in this letter Mr. Dawson was 
dining at Mrs. Bray's iouse before giving his lecture on 'John 
Wesley, at the Mechanics' Institute. His rich sarcasm and 
love of fun had exhilarated the whole company, and not 
content with merely « riotous talk," George Dawson and Mr 
Flower turned themselves into lions and wild cats for the 
amusement of the children, suddenly pouncing out from under 
the table-cloth, with hideous roarings and screeohings, till the 
hubbub became appalling, joined to the delighted half-fright- 
ened exclamations of the little ones. Mr. Dawson did the 
lions, and Mr. Flower, who had made personal acquaintance 



THE 'WESTMINSTER REVIEW.' 



xlix 

with the wild oats in the baokwoorfo ^r * 

'^Thu^a^T n^""' Poutrarscllr"'"'" ^"^""^'■ 

mented, frequenUy in tea™ n^ *"' '^^ "'"ess, tor- 

wider sphe.^, -/-re^'dTfi^&eV^rr"''? "^"°« ^ 
ever strenuonsly she, at a matm^r Z!Tir'''T ?"''- 
necessity of resignation, she hS noHhl 1 ' "•"!'^«»'«'i 'he 
herself. And now a change wasim ° ndte^ '*T *° "^'6" 
fraught with the most im wrte^t .^ * ~ * "^^"S* '^^''='>' 
to give a new direction t^^h^ "o^sequences, was destined 

Chapman invited fertoJsisttl'"' 1^*'.'"" ^'- J""" 

»re..^,W«riJe«Ve»rwhicri^°tth^^t'''*''°''''''P °* '^« 
from John Mill. They had^l™lf *""^ "•*" •"" '"^ods 

passing through London onherwa^l,r'r't° *'"""' ""^ 
matter of business or otheTcoSd whh ?'??'■ °° ^°°'« 
tions. Dr. Chapman's prooosUion wl T. °* *■" ^^^^^ 
Marian suffered keenlvf^dl ^"^^'^'^ ^ ^'"i although 

friends, the p'lpTnJ toTort%7r' °' """"« -'"^ "- 
overcame the dining of affectron"^' ^J^'' *° ^J^^ f"" 
«he left ««.ehill l^hi^ndLf S^X^t^nlr "« °' '''' 



CHAPTEB V. 

THE 'WESTJUINSTEB BEVIEW ' 

adX^^L^arjarTers'c^Sy'^- \'^« ^ahit of 

found herself at once^^:he cenle L'' • 'l""- '''"'^ "'"' 
some of the most advan/.7fh?l \ """^^ consisting of 

of tteday; a cirdfwWch Si;r°^'"'"""* ^'«-«^^^^^ 
to the We^tn^inster Seven,' Tfl^^T-^'V^ contributors 
tific tendencies, being paTticXll !^""''""^ '''* »««"- 
Positive PhUosiphy P"*"^"'"'^ ?»'"»! to the doctrines of 

rf P« .-*r, ij. H. Lewes, John Oxenford, 



1 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



i 



James and Harriet Martineau, Charles Bray, George Combe, 
and Professor Edward Forbes were among the writers that - 
made it the leadiug expositor of the philosophic and scien- 
tific thought of the age. It occupied a position something 
midway between that of the Nineteenth Century and the 
Fortnightly. Scorning, like the latter, to pander to the 
frivolous tastes of the majority, it appealed to the most 
thoughtful and enlightened section of the reading public, 
giving especial prominence to the philosophy of the Comtist 
School; and while not so fashionable as the Nineteenth 
Century, it could boast among its contributors names quite 
as famous, destined as they were to become the foremost of 
their time and country. With this group of illustrious writers 
Miss Evans was now associated, and the articles she con- 
tributed from the year 1862 to 1858 are among the most 
brilliant examples of periodical literature. The first notice 
by her pen is a brief review of Carlyle's ' Life of Sterling ' 
for January 1852, and judging from internal evidence, as 
regards style and method of treatment, the one on Margaret 
Fuller, in the next number, must be by the same hand. 

To the biographer there is a curious interest in what she 
says in her first notice about this kind of literature, and it 
would be well for the world if writers were to lay it more 
generally to heart. " We have often wished that genius 
would incline itself more frequently to the task of the biog- 
rapher, that when some great or good personage dies, instead 
of the dreary three- or five-volumed compilations of letter, 
and diary, and detail, little to the purpose, which two-thirds 
of the pubLo have not the chance, nor the other third the 
inclination, to read, we could have a real ' life,' setting forth 
briefly and vividly the man's inward and outward struggles, 
aims, and achievements, so as to make clear the meaning 
which his experience has for his fellows. A few such lives 
(chiefly autobiographies) the world possesses, and they have, 
perhaps, been more influential on the formation of character 
than any other kind of reading." Then again, speaking of 
the ' Memoirs of Margaret Fuller,' she remarks, in reference 
to the same topic, « The old-world biographies present their 
subjects pnerally as broken fragments of humanity, notice- 



:ti--: 



THE 'WESTMINSTER REVIEW U 

for readers not to ^"gKhCeTLf '"' "° '"*«"=' 
pungent words: "We are !t . i J" «''° apposite and 

as the parent or chUd^ vl^ loss whether to regard her 
Perhaps'neither thfone nor the „^°f^"'l/-''««-<ientalisn.. 
intellectual, moral, spirit^[ re/eneraln ""^ ««^«."«a"y an 
whole man _ a kindlin7?f ^*f °«'ation - a renewing of the 
ment nf fo ^T i * °^ ^ aspirations after full develoD- 
ment of faculty and perfect svmmetry of bein^ nf tv 
sect Margaret Fuller was th^ ,:., ^ ^ ^ ^' "* *"'' 

S of ill 1^^°"^'"' «^^« «aw into the hearts and over the 

wholehumS^e! HerCtvtr •* ^"" ^''^''"^ '^'> 
^ther to herseHoi ^TiSl ITZll'^Zrr' 
the time she became a mother till he final 741^^1 ^k T 
I^nshedwith her husband and child wif^^sSfoKratS 
shore, she was an altered woman, and evinced a greatnes I? 
soul and heroism of character so grand and subdufng, hat we 
feel disposed to extend to her whole career the admrrrtiln 
f T^°,P***y ""^P'""^ ^y *''« «'o«i°8 scenes. "™"*"''° 
While her reputation was at its height in the literarv 

S her" iftf ° 7'. ''Z'' ^°'^' '""^ ^^ - B^flnS 
tnat her life seemed to be a studied act, rather than a stMrT 

taneous growtii , but this was the mere flitter on hrsurW 

In this striking summing-up of a character, the penetrating 
£n fe '""? -ture -taking in at a glance 'and depLf 
ing by a few masterly touches all that helps to make ud a 
picture of the real living being-begins to'reveaT Wlf 
oJtr r" •" *?' ^'^t^i^ter S^ieu, are not only 
capital reading m themselves, but are, of course, doub y 



Ui 



OEOROK EIJOT. 



f' 



m 



attractive to us because they let out opinions, views, judg- 
ments of things and authors, which we should never other- 
wise have known. Marian Evans had not yet hidden herself 
behind the mask of George Eliot, and in many of these wise 
and witty utterances of hers we are admitted behind the 
scenes of her mind, so to speak, and see her in her own 
undisguised person — before she had assumed the role of the 
novelist, showing herself to the world mainly through her 
dramatic impersonations. 

In these articles, written in the fresh maturity of her 
powers, we learn what George Eliot thought about many 
subjects. We learn who were her favorite authors in fiction ; 
what opinions she held on art and poetry; what was her atti- 
tude towards the political and social questions of the day; 
what was her conception of human life in general. There is 
much here, no doubt, that one might have been prepared to 
find, but a good deal, too, that comes upon one with the fresh- 
ness of surprise. 

A special interest attaches natarally to what she has to say 
about her own branch of art — the novel. Though she had 
probably no idea that she was herself destined to become one 
of the great masters of fiction, she had evidently a special 
predilection for works of that kind, noticeable because hith- 
erto her bent might have appeared almost exclusively towards 
philosophy. To the thrtfe-volume ciroulating-Ubrary novel 
of the ordinary stamp she is merciless in her sarcasm. One 
of her most pithy articles of this time, or rather later, its 
date being 1856, is directed against "SiUy Novels by Lady 
Novelists." "These," she says, "consist of the frothy, the 
prosy, the pious, or the pedantic. But it is a mixture of all 
these — a composite order of feminine fatuity — that produces 
the largest class of such novels, which we shall distinguish as 
the mind and mUlinery species. We had imagined that desti- 
tute women turned novelists, as they turned governesses, 
because they had no other 'ladylike' means of getting their 
bread. Empty writing was excused by an empty stomach, 
and twaddle was consecrated by tears. ... It is clear that 
they write in elegant boudoirs, with violet-colored ink and 
a ruby pen; that they must be entirely indifferent to pub- 



fll . 



THE 'WESTMINSTEK BEVIEW.' 



,. , liii 

^Vt^^i ,^T^^-'-' ^ -ry for. of ^veny 

meat for Low Church younriLi .^'v °^ "'^'^'"al sweet- 
drama of Evangelioa^smTnd it tL V '5' '^'^'' "^^e real 
for any one who has ^i^enlu^^h"^""^ °^ «»« drama 
it, Ues among the mid^e Td lower .1 """"^ '^d "Produce 
have pictures of reli«^L^l „ !?'*'• ^^^ "an we not 

England, as interSgT M^s Tto^L^ '"f ^"^ "'^^'^ « 
life among the negroes?" ^' P"='""« °f religious 

•Scenes of der^, S'^d^t '°«"i'^ ^°'''«'J °"^ *" 
knowledge of English LTrJ life and tt\ ^" '"""""« 
her imagination, every now anTV)f * ^°^^ " '■^^ on 

surface of her w^itingsfanZt^-^'f?" '"'' ''^ '^"^ t" t^e 
"g matter with a ofrkin unSkable TJ^'/'^ ="'"'"°''- 
censunngthe lack of reality w^hwWh ' ^°"^- ^**«' 

monly treated in art, she^ Ss !« fr°' '"« *« «"■»- 
remarks, suggested by her own ^riln i^'"* *??«"*« 
peasants are joyous that tZ ^^f* = "The notion that 

a man in a sS? oct is whe?r^ir''T' *° '«?-«-* 
showingarowof soundteethThaf „ V "*"''"'8 * J°'^« and 
buxom, and village Children ntl'f*' '"'"'°''« "« """ally 
prejudices difflcuU to d£ "*°Cm"^ ^i^ ^"d -erry. are 
looks for its subjects into ll»f -^ *'*''"' '°»'i ^hioh 
painter is still under thr!^fl*T ''"'^'^ °^ Hfe- The 
has always expressed h! •""'* "^ '"^y'"" literature, which 
than theUhTrttt w""^-::^" t, ^^'o-W riS 
when they drive their team afiefd idlr'^T^''/'^ j'^™'* 
bashful love under hawZ™ T V ' .^,""' sl^^pherds make 

in the chequered shIrlirreStLm'"," ""'^^^ ''-- 
ately with spicy nut-brown rieB.f'" °°' immoder- 
much of actual ploughmen think, ^K "° °°^ ^^^ ^^ «««" 
is well acquainted X the Enrii.h ^'""""'' °° °"« ^^o 

them meny. Ihe slow gLe In t^T"''^ '^^° J''"""""'* 
Blow gaze, in which no sense of beauty 



Ut 



OEORQE ELIOT. 



'!r 



beams, no humor twinkles; the slow utterance, and the heavy 
slouching walk, remind one rather of that melancholy animal 
the camel, than of the sturdy countryman, with striped stock- 
ings, red waistcoat, and hat aside, who represents the tradi- 
tional English peasant Observe a company of haymakers 
When you see them at a distance tossing up the forkfuls of 
hay in the golden light, while the wagon creeps slowly with 
Its increasing burden over the meadow, and the bright green 
space which tells of work done gets larger and larger, you 
pronounce the scene 'smUing,' and you think these oom^- 
ions in labor must be as bright and cheerful as the picture to 
which they give animation. Approach nearer and you will 
find haymaking time is a time for joking, especially if there 
are women among the laborers; but the coarse laugh that 
bursts out every now and then, and expresses the triumphant 
taunt, is as far as possible from your conception of idyllic 
merriment. That delicious efEervescence of the mind which 
we call fun has no equivalent for the northern peasant, except 
tipsy revelry; the only realm of fancy and imagination for 
the English clown exists at the bottom of the third quart 
pot. 

"The conventional countryman of the stage, who picks up 
pocket-books and never looks into them, and who is too 
simple even to know that honesty has its opposite, represents 
the still lingering mistake, that an unintelligible dialect is 
a guarantee for ingenuousness, and that slouching shoulders 
indicate au upright disposition. It is quite sure that a 
thresher is likely to be innocent cf any adroit arithmetical 
cheating, but he is not the less likely to carry home his 
master's com in his shoes and pocket; a reaper is not given 
to writing begging letters, but he is quite capable of cajoling 
the daiiy-maid into filling his small beer bottle with ale. The 
selfish instincts are not subdued by the sight of buttercups 
nor IS integrity in the least established by that classic rural 
occupation, sheep-washing. To make men moral something 
more is requisite than to turn them out to grass." 

Every one must see that this is the essay-writing of a nov- 
elist rather than of a moral philosopher. The touches are put 
on with the vigor of a Velasquez. Balzac, or Flaubert or 



Ir^ 



THE 'WESTMINSTER REVIEW.' 



peasant life with more dowti^L .^'C """' '^«'«'"b«d 
of Miss Evans this qu^Uy o'^StvlrthJ- 'f '^^ ^y^" 
all for the artist. Because «a Iw ^ / v^" °'°** °««<iful of 
a great artist can ZTZrJJ^l" °1 ''"°*" '"«' "^"h as 
fish into that atteS; to wC '° ^^^ '""^^ «"d the sei- 
which n.ay be oaUefthe raw "iLTof '^ • "■^'"»«'-'- 
" art is the nearest thing tThfe t u l f "'"ne"'-" Pop 
experience and extending our n^f ! * °""*^ °^ amplifying 

beyond the bounds of"? ;:;o"^''to1 "^n T '^"°'-»^''" 
IS the task of the artist when T „„i V i"^" '^« ""^^ sacred 
of the People. Falsificlon We TfT^T '""' ^''^ "^^ 
m the more artiHcial aspects of fife ^*' """^ P^^^'ons than 
that we should have false iH«„„J!; . " "°* '° ^"^ serious 
about themanners and conveltbH ;L""''''''°* ''«'''°-«- 
butit ,> serious thatour ;mX:,h thr""'""''^"*^' 

fi^srth?::i^";^if;*r^^^^^ 

purpose was altogethera JLin t\T T""""" °^ " ""oral 
discussed in correction wTtJe « f"*- ""^^ '^ "«« ^'Ij 
fiction. It isonlyneedfuTf^ . ''^^''"' °* ^" works of 
binding she wished to mak^ 47. ?"' f' ^°^«'°»« '^^^ 
•esthetics. "* *** "»'°° between ethics and 

^^'^::^^^alf:!':^r^:z' '""^'"*^' •- °^ ^rt 

manner in an article cSrI, "^r"""' '^^ ^'"^^'^ 
Kotion.' This article howevfrin"tbvr''= «T°* ^^^^^ 
George Heniy Lewes, ft Z; tubll^^f °'^™°*' ''"* •'y 
and appeared after the rioinlsoionrn-n'° °°'°^'' ^858. 
spring and summer of thiryVar Tthinfr r/""°» '^« 
fnly compares 'Realism in Art' with r ^f °°" ""«- 
articles, there appears somethin.. Tit "'^ ^'^"''^ °"^«r 
respective styles irthispZrJfj * T'^^e of their 
with his flexible adapfvenesT h^l '^'°^^^^' '^^' Lewes, 
Of George .lio.s Aeri^^ra^dt^t^ SL^of X 



^-^-^ 



M 



OEOBOE EUOT. 



views he ezpresses here at the same time render Qeorge 
Eliot's, as thej frequently appear, identical with hers. In 
the article in question the manner as well as the matter has 
a certain suggestion of the novelist's style. For example, she 
frequently indicates the quality of human speech by its 
resemblance to musical sounds. She is fond of speaking of 
"the staccato tones of a voice," "an adagio of utter indiffer- 
ence," and in the above-mentioned essay there are such ex- 
pressions as the "stately largo" of good German prose. 
Again, in the article in question, we find the following satiri- 
cal remarks about the slovenly prose of the generality of 
German writers: "To be gentlemen of somewhat slow, slug- 
gish minds is perhaps their misfortune; but to be writers 
deplorably deficient in the first principles of composition is 
assuredly their fault. Some men pasture on platitudes, as 
oxen upon meadow-grass ; they are at home on a dead-level of 
common-place, and do not desire to be irradiated by a felicity 
of expression." And in another passage to the same effect the 
author says sarcastically, " Graces are gifts : it can no more 
be required of a professor that he should write with felicity 
than that he should charm all beholders with his personal 
appearance ; but literature requires that he should write in- 
telligibly and carefully, as society requires that he should 
wash his face and button his waistcoat." Some of these 
strictures are very similar in spirit to what George Eliot had 
said in her review of Heinrioh Heine, published in 1866, 
where, complaining of the general oumbrousness of German 
writers, she makes the following cutting remark: "A German 
comedy is like a German sentence: you see no reason in its 
strucfcore why it should ever come to an end, and you accept 
the conclusion as an arrangement of Providence rather than of 
the author." 

A passage in this article, which exactly tallies with George 
Eliot's general remarks on Art, must not be omitted here. 
"Art is a representation of Eeality — a Representation, inas- 
much as it is not the thing itself, but only represents it, 
must necessarily be limited by the nature of its medium. . , . 
Realism is thus the basis of all Art, and its antithesis is not 
Idealism but Falsism. ... To misrepresent the forms of 



THE -WESTMINSTER REVIEW.' 



Ivii 

<»»t, would not be morf ?rufy fh^kL t "^""^ '° "^ ^*«''- 
than are those senseless falsficlS of Nat """"" T^ 
woompetence is led under the preteCnfLif. ""** ''^'"^ 
Either give us true peasants oM^aTe tW ". ^^^ ' ^^»'"™- 
paint no drapery at Vu, or paint it withTh^"'"'^ ' ""''" 
either keep your people sUe^o,, T'*'' '''« "'most fidelity; 
of their clasf." ^^ '' "' """^^ ^^'^ speak the idiom 

PatlTe^serorortK:^;t ^' ^'"^r °^ ''■°'* »'"-). 
praise in'thisrevie^ And LI. •' ""?"^ ""' ^°' ^P*'''^ 
a tale by this e^lnentlufh rS" fj.f ''l^-^ouM be 
(which also appeared in IHT^^ iT I- u *^ ^"^^y Ones' 
forcibly recalli,rthe catastrophe J r*" ^° *"'='''''"* """"^ 
'Daniel Deronda': the Tn3 ^Hh ".""^""""'^ "««"> '» 
duoed-of a Neapolitan fi8he™a"^wh"^ unskilfully intro- 
ous hesitation to rescue his d^wnin^/' ""r'"'"^ ■°"<'"- 
remorse for his death "'""•'""g fnend ends in lifelong 

are'IL'lri't^Ker^:""" T^'"'^ -'-"t-g 
biographical interes S h« ^en ''""^ ^'* '' «" ''l""'^' 
Lewes and George Eliot were t^!",,""'".'""^'* »''•«»<»?. Mr. 
spring of 1858, and in a lette? tlf^ "i ^™*°y *" the 
we hada delioiouVy„™tVVir^'^\''"'««= "Then 
through the Salz-KpCer/ut ,n v *^' ^'"^ ^^^ ""enoe 
Prague, and from Pr^eTV",!"""^ ^"'" ^'«""» to 
last six weeks in a uTl t 7 ' '"''""« "^ «P^nt our 
^donna." And irhi^'j^rX^G hT' "' ^'^ ^^ 
the most priceless art-tre^u™ n!.!^» . ^"'*' *"""^«« *» 

marvellous picture, thelSn^ a 0°"*^""' "Raphael's 
the most perfect ll„lof-^ ^' ^"^ Sisto." as furnishinR 

andldealis'r Sp iSroHh: vu^^ '"^^"^ "^^ ««^i«- 
never-to.be.forgotC divine baL'^ f ««"'■''« «»y«= "^» 'he 
est realism of presentaZ^.>^.^ v''^'^* ** """^ 'he intens- 
oeption: theattSisl" nil^ the highest idealism of con- 
face is that of a child bu IhTl'^J'^' '^^' *"'' "^'-^^^ ' 'he 
and in that brow ther" s t iS'i'fi"\',"'"^ ^ '" 'h^'e "7^^ 
.-ter than the expression '^.I^L'XIZTZI tStf 



iTiii 



OBOROK ELIOT. 



pope or saint, is to all who see it a perfect tnah ; we feel that 
humanity in its highest oonoeirable form is before us, and that 
to transcend suoh a form would be to lose sight of the human 
nature there represented." A similar passage -occurs in 'The 
Mill on the Floss,' where Philip Wakem says: "The greatest 
of painters only once painted a mysteriously divine child ; he 
could n't have told how he did it, and we can't tell why we 
feel it to be divine." 

Enough has probably been quoted from George Eliot's 
articles to give the reader some idea of her views on art. 
But they are so rich in happy aphorisms, originality of illus- 
tration, and racindss of epithet that they not only deserve 
attentive study because they were the first fruits of the mind 
that afterwards gave to the world such noble and perfect works 
as ' The Mill on the Floss ' and ' Silas Mamer,' but are well 
worth attention for their own sake. Indeed, nothing in George 
Eliot's fictions excels the style of these papers. And what a 
clear, incisive, masterly style it was I Her prose in those days 
had a swiftness of movement, an epigrammatic felicity, and a 
brilliancy of antithesis which we look for in vain in the over- 
elaborate sentences and somewhat ponderous wit of 'Theo- 
phrastus Such.' 

A very vapid paper on • Weimar and its Celebrities,' April 
1859, which a writer in the Academy attributes to the same 
hand, I know not on what authority, does not possess a single 
attribute that we are in the habit of associating with the writ- 
ings of George Eliot. That an author who, by that time, had 
already produced some of her very finest work, namely, the 
' Scenes of Clerical Life* and ' Adam Bede,' should have been 
responsible simultaneously for the trite common-places venti- 
lated in this article is simply incredible. It is true that 
Homer is sometimes found nodding, and the right-hand of the 
greatest master may forget its cunning, but would George 
Eliot in her most abject moments have been capable of pen- 
ning such a sentence as this in connection with Goethe? 
" Would not Fredricka of Lili have been a more genial com- 
panion than Christina Vulpius for that great poet of whom 
his native land is so justly proud ? " It is not worth while to 
point out other platitudes such as flow spontaneously from the 



THB ■ WESTMINSTER REVIEW.' 



lix 
•aUy '^for«L.w5.':fzt't'^Xo^ ,!" ?"' ?8. Thus wr,ead 

wotmg proofs. But m ;> »..„ '""" o"' oi tne wayof cor- 
this wortu'ess prLluoS^sSd^tr"'' ""'~"""'' ''«" 
other on 'Worldline.. »n^ n*K V.r , ° ^*^' "''I ">« 

»«»». Ihese articles are curious beoftusn f h«^ ...» * «'<'"ati- 
time. Two extrfcts Trom if "t^"'"'"'* °^ '^'' transitional 

a.p^testif;rrh':ttV3t^i7;r'°"'^ '''*^"'- ^^^^ 



Is 



UKOKOE ELIOT. 



unotuou* agoUm at Ood-givea piety? Let luoh a nun be. 
oome ttii evangeliottl preacher; he will then find it pouible to 
rooonoilo small ability with ^reat ambition, superficial knowl- 
edge with the prsHtigt of erudition, a middling morale with 
a high r«pultttioii for sanctity. Ut hiu shun practical ex- 
tremes, and be ultra only in what is purely theoretic. L«t 
him be stringent on predestination, but latitudinarian on fast- 
ing; unttmclimgin insibtmg on the eternity of punishment, 
bu diihdent of curtailing the substantial comforts of time 
ardeut ar,d imaginativo on the pre-millennial advent of Christ 
but cold and cautious towards every other infringement of the 
ttatu* quo. Let him fish for souls, not with the bait of in- 
convenient singularity, but with the drag-net of comfortable 
conformity. Let him be hard and literal in his interpretation 
only when he wants to hurl texts at the heads of unbelievers 
and adversaries, but when the letter of the Scriptures presses 
too closely on the genteel Christianity of the nineteenth cen- 
tury, let him use hia spiritualizing alembic and disperse it into 
impalpable ether. Let him preach less of Christ than of 
Antichrist j let him be less deBnite in showing what sin is 
than in showing who U the Man of Sin ; less expansive on the 
blessedueas of faith than on the aocursedness of infidelity. 
Above all, let him set up as an interpreter of prophecy, rival 
' Moore's Almanack ' in the prediction of political events, tick- 
ling the interest of hearers who are but moderately spiritual 
by showijg how the Holy Spirit has dictated proHems and 
charades for their benefit ; and how, if thoy are ingenious enough 
to solve these, thoy may have their Christian graces nourished 
by learning precisely to whom they may point as ' the horn that 
had eyes,' 'the lying prophet,' and the 'unclean spirits.' In 
this way he will draw men to him by the strong cords of th-ir 
passiona, made reason-proof by being baptized with the name 
of piety. In this way he may gain a metropolitan pulpit ; the 
-vc. ues to his church will be as crowded as the passages to the 
opera ; he has but to print his prophetic sermons, and bind them 
in lilac and gold, and they wiU adorn the drawing-room table 
of all evangelical ladies, who will regard as a sort of pious 
'light reading' the demonstration that the prophecy of the 
locusts, whose bting is in their taU, is fulfilled in the fact of the 



THK 'WE8TMIN.ST1 UKVIEW.- ,„ 

l^ Zr KretrrttVeiTo'" '"" "r '^' '^^'- 

Revelations." ^ ""ff" P'oJicted in the 

Even more soathinir than this nnahm^ki 
the popular evangelical preaiheTr?h "'' '''"^'' ''»« °' 
Voung, one of thrwittie«r^7 ' i " ^^' "^ "'« !»«' 
wherein .he castignZ-, w th tn "h """ """"^ ^"°'''' P»". 
ridicule that Xs of b. i 'te ' tl' ^'"'" "^ "arcasm and 
.ufflciently in crfer o make .ur! „°f T""" '""'^ ""» "^o 
the care of their own so'f ^ cLll IfT ""j.r""' '= 
Her analysis of the 'Night ThorhJ" """'''" »*•"'• 

most brilliant eriticS^ws of ts ttnf V "'°""" °"' °' "»• 
this earth, of all of us and h?. ..Lu V- TK^ contempt for 
*hov<,, especially proT^ke ht «^ ?" "' "" """"y "'"•'•» 
of mind was always t„uk!vI"'Tf"' """^- ^his frame 
never sufficiently ZitTnZl lalVlJ'''''' "'° '"'"'■» 
his love and energy on the Iif« .,!. i^N,; *" * fO'-oentrating 

»uch toleration for that form of r^'lr.-^"'";. ^'"' °«^" ^«>' 
some shadowy infinite bevon^ ti "*P"f' °° ^at would soar to 

One of the most epIgramS !«' ' '".'?""'*" ^"""'""'iP- 
she says of Youn/ "Cm«! P^'T"'" ""» article is where 
liahed Church §e Irson^^ ^ '^^^ ^'*^^ ^°' "" EstaL 
of temporalities ^d fp UuSes°"°Hf '^ "",!'*'"' '»'-<'« 
with the momentousness of deah ;,„.', " "^T^'y '""P^cwed 
guishes at once for immortal We a'dfo, o" ^"'f l^" '""■ 
fervid attachment to patrons nine J k ?"T' ^^ ^" " 
fers the Almighty. Cwill (TJl "^l' ''"* °° *''« '''hole pre- 

Official convict'ion-^the nolh ng^"t^7earthr\v« "°'« ''- 
wUl feel something more than rl f T^^ ^^"'^' '^^ ^e 
rious efforts in di4t,°; men's Son tT'^'i' "^^ ""''°- 
not rewarded by suhat^nH^l LIT . *° *"°*" "'orid are 
■nan believes in'^aSt^rnSk s^V " ^" "«""'« 
istic attire for 'an ornament .,f,!r • ^'°e'"°8' as character- 
eourtiers will never foretllofv^"" p^t'"*"^ ' ' ''« '>°P«'' 
Writes begging letters fo\.. ^s ';;.£tf Walpole; and 
man recognizes no motives more femn !f ' ^'* spi"t«ial 
'the skies;' it walks in !L^ familiar than Golgotha and 

• • • If it we el OP the3' ^°'f°'" '"""^ "" ''"" 

aiders it would l« w°'e.rd^'^ ,°* ■^mortality, he con- 

'"® "'^'^ agreeable to be indecent^ or to 



Izii 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



P 

if f 



■: 



^Hnn , '' ' *'"'' ^'^^"' ^P*'*' '' ''°"ld be extremely 

urational m any man not to be a knave. Man, he thinks is a 

bLTh""!"' '^' ^^'l ""'^ "»* '""'« i ""« brut; is to ^W 
bled by being reminded of its 'relation to the stars 'Td 
frightened into moderation by the contemplation of deathCs 

world rnd^H-'Ti'' *" ^ ^'""'"^^ ^y v't«Peniting tMs 
It 1 rt '?""■« f\' ""*• ""'^ ^y '^^' double process you 
get the Christian - 'the highest style of man.' With all this 
our new-made divine is an unmistakable poet. To a clay 
TJTf "Y"^^ f ^^' ''°'''*""S ^°<» the rhetorician there 
1 f^ v.* ''"^ 'P"'' °^ P'o^etl'ean fire. He wiU one day 
rp^r. ^'\*P««"°Pl'«« «"<! objurgations, his astronomical 
religion and his charnel-house morality, in lasting verse 
which will stand, like a Juggernaut mile of gold andjew- 
PHw /v ' '"^fJI'fif'" and repulsive: for this divine is 
Edward Young, the future author of the 'Night Thoughts "' 
It has seemed appropriate to quote thus largely from these 
essays, because, never having been reprinted, they are to all 
intents and purposes inaccessible to the general reader Yet 
they contain much that should not willingly be consigned to 
the dust and cobwebs, among which obsolete magazines usually 
sink into oblivion. They may as well be specified here accord- 
ing to their dates. 'Carlyle's Life of Sterling,' January 1852 : 
Woman m France : Madame de Sabl^,' October 1854 ; ' Evan! 
gelical Teaching: Dr. Gumming,' October 1855; 'German 
Wit: Heinnch Heine,' January 1S66; 'Silly Novels by Lady 
Novelists' October 1856; 'The Natural History of German 
Life/ July 1856; and 'Worldliness and Other-Worldliness : 
the Poet Young,' January 1857. 

Miss Evans's main employment on the Westminster Review 
was, however, editorial. She used to write a considerable 
portion of the summary of contemporary literature at the end 
of each number. But her co-operation as subeditor ceased 
about the close of 1853, when she left Dr. Chapman's house, 
and went to live in apartments in a small house in Cambridge 
Terrace, Hyde Park. Marian Evans was not entirely depend- 
ent at this time on the proceeds of her literary work, her 
father having settled the sum of 80/. to im. a year on her for 
life, the capital of which, however, did not belong to her. She 



GEORGE HENRY LEWES. 



Ixiii 



was very generous with her moneir • and -ilrt., i, >, 

at this time were not considerable'tW w ^ learnings 

her poor relations. """""^'''e' t^^ey were partly spent on 



CHAPTER VI. 

GEOBQE HENKY 1EWE8. 

Id October 1852, she stayed w™h Mr »^^t?'" ^""^ elsewhere, 
at Edinburgh, and on h^r wav btk w» l*^'' ^°'S« ^ombe 
Martineau, at her dehghtfX SaZ h ^''' f »""«* 
3r acquaintance with MrHerWrw f i" .^""Weside. 
a cordial friendship Thev 1^ n ^ T ^^ ''^"'^ '°to 
and in the oountT and LTr i„r^"^ ^'^ '" ^"^on 
n.utnal mtellectu^'enToyml^ a^d ""^^ ^ " '"""^ °^ 
have become evident it is errnn? ^f '• *^ """' already 
any share in the forma in ^ her Tin^ T^"" l^"' '^ ""^ 
Spencer said, in a letter to tLn ^, J °' "^ ^'- Herbert 
did not commence untU 1851 wtfT' "°"' '"^^''^^'P 

tinguished by that breath 'f' cu£ t/"' -^'""^^ ''''- 

"r;TeSt-£%reSf^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

rumor, after alMng in a^',^,n^LT.f"°* *°"'='^^ °° '•"'« 
great contemporary -^"LTveTtn^ """"■" *° "^"'h^ 
tions quite di3_l ^e/e/jiLj , '' °"^ °^ y°" q»^«- 
with" (naming a'promin nTpSi:^^'' acquaintance 
my knowledge, except in the HoZ of p ^' '^'' ^™ '° 

I have studied his books Tr^T v ^""""Ms; and though 
Economy,' with muSiefiri W„'''' '''°«'"' *"'' '^°"ti'al 
having made any markSScJ Sy^^r^"^^^ "^ ''^^'' 

tage for'^tWyeSlS 1^'*^*'' '>'"'°' ^"^ ^^- 
my mind had been taken before I knlv'"'^ ""*'° ^''^ "^ 
f his readers, I am, of court ind^bLd Shlm^"' ''l"=' 
largement and clarifying of thought!" """'^ "'°- 



■^^W^^^MI 



Iziv 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



durin^fhrflT '^°*^f «^'l"»i°t«~e which Miss Evans made 
during the first year of her residence in the Strand uLT^^ 
to ^ect the whole future tenor of her life I lie a^ Ju^S 

l^^^SX^rL"'"^^' *''-' '*" ^"' * """" 

.aSLfw^^n^^dron^-rofl^^ ^/X' 
was educated at Greenwich in a school once mssessinf^ hi h 

eT'^nhVT "'°"'°«^{ "S-nding-rprphsTf know'l 
h« 1/ , i^""',- ,^^*» ^'^ education was so far finishld 
he was placed as clerk in a merchant's office. This kind of 
ft aCe° 'v"°' -"y.-li^t-teful, hP ..rned me^c^l s uden 
losopHy, for at the age of nineteen we ..ad him attendiiK, t),« 
weekly meetings of a small club, in the habTt of Ss n^ 
metaphysical problems in the pn,-]or of a tavern i„ rlTr ^ 
gua^e Holborn. This elubXm which the irinlS 
Deronda' is supposed to have borrowed many of its feature 

h7J T'V ^■"'""•°" ^°'*"'°«* heterogLeou company 
Here, amicably seated round t!ia fi™ „ ^"uo i-umpany. 

would hob andU with some medictl ^tudeTdef '" **""' 

omy; a second-hand bookseSerhaS devoured tre'^liter^r*" 

on h^ shelves, ventilated their contenfs frtheteneritn^^^ 

alt^r""''' """""""^ ""y^*'" ^'^ listened tot turn wfth 
a Jewish journeyman watchmaker deeply imbued with Lw 
zism It is impossible not to connect thfs C na^ed CoC 
a.d described as "a man of astonishing subTiUy^„1 foS 

o? th« n T ? °^ '""^^ ^''""^^ '^"rt^." with the MoE 
of the novel just mentioned. However wide the aftTr div« 

cSihe r '^'^r'^ "f *'"' ««-• -^'e weak Tyes I^d 
chest, the grave and gentle demeanor, the whole idealitv nf 
character, correspond. In some respects G H^we w^ 
the "Daniel Deronda" to this "MordVcai." For hr^ot onW 
loved but venerated his "great calm intellect." " i^ "mm^ni 
pity," says Mr. Lewes, "a fervid indignation, filltd me^ ? 
cameawayfrom his attics in one of the HolCn courtT whire 
I had seen him in the pinching poverty of his home with hi^ 
German wife and two little black^yed children/" ' ' 

To this pure-spirited suffering watehmaker, Lewes owed his 



■wmMm-mn.m^-- 



GEORGE HENRY LEWES. j^^ 

first acquaintance with Snino^a a . • 
cted by Cohen, awakenedT'ea^t"«^'? f«sa«e, oaaually 
youth. The desire to posses hfmLf',' 1°' """^ '- '•>« 
still in the odor of pesWental C- ^ '^'' ''°''''' 

passion. Forhehimsfff then f»nff ^' ."""'*'* ^'^ "^e a 
which embitters any detrtare f™™ "°^ '^' ^""'"^ persecution 
defiant sympathy with^foutcSr '^"'P'*^ '"^*'^^'" ^«1* ^^ 
evenmg, the coveted volumes ^e/e at^ "jl'^f^ November 
the dingy shelves of a second land hnntn^'' discovered on 
gashght, young Lewes, wTa tlti^t l"" ^^ "■« A^'ng 
of a small brown quart^ those thril"^ '''?' "'^ "^ 'J^« back 
Posthuma ! ' He was JT,^ tfillmg words, < Spinoza : Ooera 

volume was twentrhrn ' k ."t ''^'' """^ "'^ P""" °f th« 
ficed his last sixpeLe oTju'e it T^ '"^'^ ^"^^^ ««"i- 
w.th feverish delight, he hurried hom„ T? ^^'"^ '"« "'<»>«7 
diatelyset to work ;n a traitionnf" A"T^''' ''"'^ '"•">«• 
however, he was too impatierSnfsh ''' "=*''"="'' "'■-'>. 

•^in^tKr^rdicr onrta^sirr - -^^ - 

Phy, butas showine the «^L! • , • * *'""''«'• ^ pbiloso- 

The study of SpinZedoTsSr "'"" •" "" """^ 
and works in the »W/™,-„l I .°8 *" article on his life 

-count Of the gre!;Terr pto^p^ ^^^ ^-t '•>« £ 
this country. This artipl» P""osopher which appeared in 
'Biographill ffilry o th£r'? '"""r-''^ -the 
believe, of that "admirable nwJ^' 'T^ *•>« """'eus, I 
exposition," as Mr. Preder" HarH '^'^*«'' ""''"'» a^d 
according to him, has infl L^^tr^f '' 1*' " ^°'^ '^bich, 
~ion^.most more thrtf ^Sto^ XT^ 

■osSSS =rnV4^f;C'f - •«'=*<''^ °^ -"■•■ 

he study of its language and S;*^ '^*^°'^'' '"™»«'f to 
fashion by Carlyle. Ee?urmn„ to ?„.?' f '' ^'""^^^ '»'° 
came one of the most nrnlifiT f ngland in 1839, he be- 

brilliant. and ma^;: ded he Ced "'' "' *'''' ''^- ^itty, 
nature for a press-writer and ////-' P'^'^^wcntly fitted by 
so amazing, that a c"ever talke "t:"' . «'r*"»''^''J"'aI 
can do everything in the worH brS- t^T "^*"*« 
« ' paint, and he couid do 



Izri 



OEOROB ELIOT. 



that, too, after a week's study." At this time, besides assist- 
ing in the editorship of the Clasaical Muieum, he wrote for 
the Iteming Chronicle, the Athetueiim, the Edinburgh, For- 
eign Quarterly, British Quarterly, Blackwood, Fraaer, and the 
Weatminater Review. After publishing ' A Biographical His- 
tory of Philosophy,' through Mr. Knight's ' Weekly Volumes ' 
in 1846, he wrote two novels, ' Banthorpe,' and ' Bose, B ohe, 
and Violet,' which successively appeared in 1847 and 1848. 
But fiction was not bis forte, these two productions being 
singularly crude aud immature as compared with his excel- 
lent philosophical work. Some jokes in the papers about 
" rant " killed what little life there was in ' Banthorpe.' 
Ifevertheless, Charlotte BrontS, who had some correspondence 
with M;- Lewes about 1847, actually wrote about it as fol- 
lows : " In reading ' Banthorpe,' I have read a new book, 
not a reprint, not a reflecti9n of any other book, but a nena 
book." Another great writer, Edgar Foe, admired it no less, 
for he says of the work : " I have lately read it with deep 
interest, and derived great consolation from it also. It re- 
lates to the career of a literary man, and gives a just view of 
the true aims and the true dignity of the literary character." 

' The Spanish Drama ; ' ' The Life of Maxmilian Bobes- 
pierre, with extracts from his unpublished correspondence ; ' 
' The Noble Heart : a Tragedy ; ' all followed in close succes- 
sion from the same inexhaustible pen. The last, it was said, 
proved also a tragedy to the publishers. But not content 
with writing dramas, Mr. Lewes was also ambitious of the 
fame of an actor, the theatre having always possessed a strong 
fascination for him. Already m a child he had haunted the 
theatres, and now, while delivering a lecture at the Philo- 
sophical Institution in Edinburgh, he shocked its staid habi- 
tues not a little by immediately afterwards appearing on the 
stage in the character of Shylock : so many, and seemingly 
incompatible, were Lewes's pursuits. But this extreme mo- 
bility of mind, this intellectual tripping f om subject to sub- 
ject, retarded the growth of his popularity. The present 
mechanical subdivision of labor has most unfortunately also 
affected the judgment passed on literary and artistic products. 
Let a man once have written a novel typical of the manners 



?niL 



OEOHGE HENRY LEWES. 



kvii 



composed a S « rthf ^/^ "^"0^^ ^""^ °' 
some bygone media,yal sinLrheTmtlH '"'^}^«^t^ of 
ot his days, to do the same '^Lg oVe^ f Tol ' *" """ ""^ 
naweam. Nothing can well be mL I ! " *«*"■' "^ 

reading world ' '"="°^" ''^ Siving it to the 

unsuccessful weekly the /f/ f^u*^"" °* *''»' ''"e but 
aryeditorfrori849to,Si5 "t"'"^ 7^"='' ^^ ^'^ t^e liter- 

C7mte were oHg S^wSn tT '" "'"'^^ °" ^"«-*« 
collected into a volume forBnW ^^P".'' *"'* ^""''ards 

John Stuart Mill heTs to 1! !fT'- ^''^^^^' ^''^' Mr. 

neutof Positifis^t E glanVVlt^^ T '^ ' '^^^ 
'Cours de Philosor>hi^ p^.J^'^\ ,?« °°* °"ly considt.ed the 

scientific question^ Tht ^inl hk oh" f V^^ '''''' "" "*'>" 
detect the law of mental l^.t^ his object, he was forced to 
This law isThe Uw of hTt^riZ '^'°™ ^' """'-^ ^-'^-<^- 
Mr. Lewes, with Ws talent for^ P^gression." But while 
U.O. thanW othe: "^^ZTTZ^^I^ 



.:9mt»jl_C 



Ixviii 



OEOROE ELIOT. 



ciples of Comte's philosophy in this country, he was at the 
same time violently opposed to his ' Politique Potitive,' witli 
its schemes of social reorganization. 

Even so slight a survey as this must show the astonishing 
discursiveness of Mr. Lewes's intellect. By the time he 
was thirty he had already tried his hand at criticism, fiction, 
biography, the drama, and philosophy. He had enlarged his 
experience of human nature by foreign travel; he had ad- 
dressed audiences from the lecturer's platform; he had en- 
joyed the perilous sweets of editing a newspaper j he had even, 
it is said, played the harlequin in a company of strolling actors. 
Indeed, Mr. Thackeray was once heard to say that it would 
not surprise him to meet Lewes in Piccadilly, riding on a 
white elephant ; whilst another wit likened him to the Wan- 
dering Jew, as you could never tell where he was going to 
turn up, or what he was going to do next. 

In this discursiveness of intellect he more nearly resembled 
the Encyclopedists of the eighteenth century than the men of 
his own time. Indeed, his personal appearance, temperament, 
manners, general tone of thought, seemed rather to be those 
of a highly accomplished foreigner than of an English- 
m.an. He was a lightly built, fragile man, with bushy curly 
hair, and a general shagginess of beard and eyebrow not 
unsuggestive of a Skye terrier. For the rest, he had a promi- 
nent mouth and gray, deeply set eyes under an ample, finely 
proportioned forehead. Volatile by nature, somewhat wild and 
lawless in his talk, he in turn delighted and shocked his 
friends by the gayety, recklessness, and genial abandon of his 
manners and conversation. His companionship was singu- 
larly stimulating, for the commonest topic served him as a 
starting-point for the lucid development of some pet philo- 
sophical theory. In this gift of making abstruse problems 
intelligible, and difficult things easy, he had some resemblance 
to the late W. K. Clifford, with his magical faculty of illumi- 
nating the most abstruse subjects by his vivid directness 
of exposition. 

As Lewes's life was so soon to be closely united to that of 
Marian Evans, this cursory sketch of his career will not seem 
inappropriate. At the time they met at Dr. Chapman's house. 



OEOKGE HENKY LEWES. Uix 

Mr. Lewes, who had married early in life fnnn,i n 
relations irretrievably spoiled How f!: t„K, °°?^"»''' 
Bight attach to one side or to thf oLr / '"°"' °^ ">" 
here. Enough that in the'°ilM':,'e':^:h" a T"" 1 
such astonishins intellept v»ri„^ • * woman of 

aympathy, Mr. feC S J/edl c^Zr^' i^^ "" 

ing-points had re^heH T ' ' ^T ""='' '*"^«"°t start- 
eafh^her f» h^ final fruitT 'f^r'"'''""^'^ *° "^^-^ 
what was best in th. A e.is's was^T' '^«^«'°P??«°' "^ 

rrtronrwirro?-" r-^ "- — ^ 

the appearance of '.lino Tfo-L) ,„ I, "" """ree jaws. On 
on a defenoe'^oT^rrhttal^ro^D Il^'n ^1 t"""!' ^"'" 

foster a passion sufficient to rou^e all the fa.,„lt7es to a" I 
".aa,ng or retamuig its beloved object- to convert indi;: 



*w__^ 



In 



OEOROE EUOT. 



into «otiTity, indifference into ardent partisanihip, dnlneu 
into perspicuity." 

Such a, union, formed in the full maturity of thought and 
feeling, was now contracted by Marian Evans and George 
Henry Lewes. Legal union, however, there could be none, 
for though virtually separated from his wife, Mr. Lewes coulu 
not get a divorce. Too little has as yet transpired concerning 
this important step to indicate more than the bare outline of 
events. Enough that Mr. Lewes appears to have written a 
letter in which, after a full explanation of his circumstances, 
he used all his powers of persuasion to win Miss Evans for 
his life-long companion; that she consented, after having 
satisfied her conscience that in reality she was not injuring 
the claims of others ; and that henceforth she bore Mr. 
Lewes's name, and became his wife in every sense but the 
legal one. , 

This proceeding caused the utmost consternation amongst 
her acquaintances, especially amongst her friends at Bosehill. 
The former intimate and affectionate intercourse with Mrs. 
Bray and her sister was only gradually restored, and only 
after they had come to realize how perfectly her own con- 
science had been consulted and satisfied in the matter. Miss 
Hennell, who had already entered on the scheme of religious 
doctrine which ever since she has been setting forth in her 
printed works, "swerved nothing from her own principles 
that the maintenance of a conventional form of marriage (re- 
moulded to the demands of the present age) is essentially 
attached to all religion, and pre-eminently so to the religion 
of the future." 

In thus defying public opinion, and forming a connection in 
opposition to the laws of society, George Eliot must have 
undergone some trials and sufferings peculiarly painful to one 
so shrinkingly sensitive as herself. Conscious of no wrong- 
doing, enjoying the rare happiness of completest intellectual 
fellowship in the man she loved, the step she had taken made 
a gap between her kindred and herself which could not but 
gall her clinging, womanly nature. To some of her early 
companions, indeed, who had always felt a certain awe at the 
imposing gravity of her manners, this dereliction from what 



i^ ^ 



OlOBGK HENRT LSWM. i,,j 

How far the indiTiHiinl «■■« "OBvena tailing down, 
th. dictate, of hrpSiadLTnV ^ ^'"'^'"^ '" foUo'^i-g 
«nd prevalent opinbnTof 'bt'ZTZ "^^V'^"" ^^ ""» 1*'» 

. question no l^es difficult hrde^lfeTfT """' """'" 
precisely the point where th« hTv. i °* "^eo'sion. It is 

.ometimes ap^^nt^ m"e tsitf .*"* ?•"'""' *"«* '!"« 'owes 
torn may be ^ to Z^mUtZw^' 'l°Tl"°° *° "- 
exaltation of the reformer h,3?*^ ** **« spiritual 
sake of an idea, or mayTpri' ^rth/?.'''' .°'"*"'"'" ^°' 'h« 
rebelUous PromptingsTr^itstia, ^^ "^ 'j:°"? P""'^ 
mzes no law higher than thaTnV T""' '^'•''''' ™oo«- 

the same time, if seems ttal^l P'""'"'' gratification. At 
in the evolution TZ£t\^^y,^'°.T'' '^'^^ '"'^ ^ ""ade 
part of individuals f^mthe^i'nt'^'"' •'«P«'""s on the 
Mures help even u^ totards ,tt° '^'^'■"" «^«" "■« 
18 beneficial and possiwrlf .<^ ^ " ^cognition of what 
c«rft, Shelley, (^o?^ tLdl« v '"T',' ^"^ Wollstone- 
i'ts, with t/eir ol'^unTsUc exSnenf '"A''"*?'"''°''-*^- 
more or less strove to be Sh-finde™ teVw^'' ^''"°' '^^ 
state of society. Geors.. Fw\ ^ * '*""' ^n*! happier 

order of mind C^ull ^ '"'*''*'• '"^'^ ^^'ong^d to Uiig 
of the -rLing Taw^^f "srer"*:' \",'° discard one 
herself jm,tified ilToLg sTb^' L'^'^'^S' '^^ '°^"^'^i 
whole, more enlisted inZ steta nJ «yn>Pathie8 were, on the 
they might be It i« o!^.?^** °^ .""'"8" « they are than as 
in her fwn life h J fo,w2 ^^ *!■-* *''<' -nian, wh" 
severing herself in nia^y wlvs f«n, V°''"P"°''*°' <"'"«''' 
traditional sanctities, sSd yet 1^1^'-^',' '''^ "" "" 
opposite teaching in her works »V, m '"f^^^^ 'he very 
slavish adherence to whatever s,™^*^ '"u"^"*** »» almost 
ties a human being mayttrn to ° "''' ^'""'' ""^ '^"^ 

Gerrny sS^^rmtg^;;;.^^'^^^ *°f ^-^— t to 
by death, gave to^h X CVir'^V^"'"^' ""^^ ^''ding- 
lives. Many marr^lrtlm^.^'f .«''° ^«" lacking in thei? 
in with all the ostenTt on Silt" Xt''"''^ '""* ^'^""^ 
^-g breakf^t, are inde^d^^irZ^tiltsr r^X ' 



4^7 



Izzii 



QEORGB ELIOT. 



deeper human aspects which this relation implies, 1 jan the 
one contracted in this informal manner. Indeed, to those 
who saw them together, it seemed as if they could noyer be 
aiart Yet, while so entirely at one, each respected the 
others individuality, his own, at the same time, gaining in 
strength by the contact. Mr. Lewes's mercurial disposition 
now assumed a stability greatly enhancing his brilliant talents 
and for the first time facilitating that concentration of Intel- 
lect so necessary for the production of really lasting philo- 
sophic work. On the other hand, George Eliot's still dormant 
faculties were roused and stimulated to the utmost by the 
man to whom this union with her formed the most memorable 
year of his life. By his enthusiastic belief in her he gave her 
the only thing she wanted — a thorough belief in herself. In- 
deed, he was more than a husband : he was, as an intimate 
friend once pithily remarked,,a very mother to her. Tenderly 
watching over her delicate health, cheering the grave tenor of 
her thoughts by his inexhaustible buoyancy, jealously shield- 
ing her from every adverse breath of criticism, Mr. Lewca in a 
manner created the spiritual atmosphere in which George Eliot 
could best put forth all the flowers and fruits of her genius. 

In joining her life with that of Mr. Lewes, the care of his 
three children devolved upon George Eliot, who henceforth 
showed them the undeviating love and tenderness of a mother. 
One of the sons had gone out to Natal as a young man, and 
contracted a fatal disease, which, complicated with some acci- 
dent, resulted in an untimely death. He returned home a 
hopeless invalid, and his tedious illness was cheered by the 
affectionate tendance of her who had for so many years acted 
a mother's part towards him. 



CHAPTER VII. 

SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. 

As has already been mentioned, Mr. Lewes and Marian 
went to Germany in 1854, dividing the year between Berlin, 
Munich, and Weimar. In the latter pleasant little Saxon 



pi m 



8CBNE8 OF CLERICAI, LIFB. I„m 

ful days, wandering in G<^the.s*lv" T"' '°"y '^'"■8'''- 
neighborhood, and' njS .o^ o/?h "' "■" '*''"'*^"' 
•ooiety in Germany. Seve^ aS. ,,' """' cultivated 
erature, afterward^ pSd t .i:"!^;?"" '''* "" "»■ 
were probably written «f7i,»- r^, '♦*»"»»'"'«'• Jteview, 

noza'.'.EthicsCGeorl E otw^; ^"^ '"""'''"°° "^ ^y 

foot-note, "It ma^ interest 8oJ« ™ :0°«"'«'8 Life,' says, in a 
will ere long apZr in Fnl? r ^■'"'''" '" '*»'» *'>''t Sp noza 
lines." This ^^a deSlt:''"'' "^ the writer of thes^ 
ha. not yet n>ade i^ap^zLoeZ "'""''. "" '""""■"""' 
would now be warmly we^o^d ^ ^ "' Publication 

i« the way, a. the .torrgo^rthat ^r. '^ '"y- *"<> this 
had returned from th/cnr^f' . ?* discovered it. They 
I-ndon, both aolvely en^r^ed "n m' T"* "*"'«'' ''S"'" » 
unless in certain oases ofTi'nh'."'^; ^"' '"^'ature, 
the worst paid of r.U work Mr Le^* ^r^^''^' " ""''»?« 
"ot too well off. The fomer infinif! "^ ^''°'«* ^""t were 
self tried every form of™temuret'"."^^ 
notice the matchless i»wer o? ^p .""' """^'^ °°t fail to 
matching it in power oTth/fi,^""""' '"'' the memory 
iJea struck him^^jS/^^f/,, ^"ture novelist, ^ne day a^ 

write a capital story7 Shorily X*"'' 7 "l.'"'' ^""^ """Id 
dinner engagement, ^b„t TCK^Zj '^^ ^^ """^ 
»a..^ "I won't go out this evenKf wh« *" «° °"'' "'"' 
don't disturb me. I shall be very busy " ' An^ .f " ="■"« ■» 
the 'S«enes of Clerical Tif»' „; /' ^""^ this was how 
being shown a p^rtbfof be fim'tai:" < A^ "" l"'"""' «" 
Lewes was fairly amazed ' ^"^ " ^'^'''' ^'■ 

^'^y'^Z;'^^^^-^^ •>"*, if not 
testimony of friends LZTl^^'Z it"^"' t ^^^^^^ 
-ho first incited the gifted womT, oftlr" ^^ ''^"" 

I ui wnose great powers 



mm 



IzxiT 



OEOBUE EUOT. 



!l . ^ .*!^* ^ '""" ' judgment, to expreM henclf in 
that ipeoies of literature which would afford the fulleit scope 
to the creative and dramatic facultiei which ihe lo eminenUv 
poB«e»»ed. Here, however, hU iniluenoe ended. He helped 
to reveal George Eliot to benelf, and after that then wm 
little left for him to do. But thii gift of Btimulating another 
by Bympathetic luaight and critical appreciation is itself of 
priceless value. When Schiller died, Goethe said, " The half 
of my existence U gone from me." A terrible word to utter 
for one so great. But never again, he knew, would he meet 
with the same complete comprehension, and, laoki!.g that, his 
genius iteelf seemed less his own than before. 

There is an impression abroad that Mr. Lewes, if anythinB 
did some injury to George Eliot from a literary point of view- 
that the nature of his pursuite led her to adopt too technical 
and pedantic a phraseology in her novels. But thU idea is 
unjust to both. In comparing her earliest with her latest 
style, It IS clear that from the first she was apt to cull her 
Illustrations from the physical sciences, thereby showing how 
much these studies had become part of herself. Indeed, she 
was far more liable to introduce these scientific modes of 
expression than Mr. Lewes, as may be easily seen by compar- 
ing his ' Life of Goethe,' partly re-writton in 1864, with some 
of her essays of the same date. As to her matter, it is 
curious how much of it was drawn from the earliest sources 
of memory — from that life of her childhood to which she 
may sometimes have turned yearningly as to a long-lost Para- 
dise. Most of her works might, indeed, not inaptly be called 
•Looking Backward.' They are a half-pathetic, half-hnmor- 
ous, but entirely tender revivification of the " days that are 
no more." No one, however intimate, could really intermeddle 
with the workings of a genius drawing its happiest inspira. 
tion from the earliest experiences of its own individual past. 

Nothing is more characteristic of this obvious tendency 
than the first of the 'Scenes of Clerical Life,' 'The Sad 
Fortunes of the Kev. Amos Barton.' At Chilvers Coton the 
ounous in such matters may still see the identical church 
where the incumbent of Shepperton used to preach sermons 
Shrewdly compounded of High Church doctrines and Low 



•CKNK8 or CUtHICAt X,1FI. 



">ll«.e the little ohu«h',rdthfK"»K ^'""' ""^ may 
the pal. gr.v.,tone.," in "«,e,iW ."^r'' "" *» <«'» P"t 
a handaor,., .„f,,^tv, „ „C,„« ^^ i""*" '»"«' i» one. 

'■••' flF.OV.u Wl,« OF TH. 

K^^. J'. 'IS GWYTHEB,B.A 

''IUT;. ,„THW PABMH, ' 
IfOy. 4TH, 1M», 

ajreet woman: heard the oTrcuinll T? •?"' ""'^ "^ t^"^" 
8lea to make the two ends of 1 rii* f '**;'" °^ •"« »t"^«- 
■neet the yearly expenses "hearfheriri"""^ ^'"''» '■"'°»e 

2t °' *""• ^"^"^'^ blame hSwJ^tZ"" '°"'' ('^ *''« 
">g the presence in her house of Th. , ^~'^»«°'» i" tolerat- 
countess, who, having initiated h ^"""""""""i exacting 
Amos by her talk of t1,e X n«'',, ^/Z^" Ti"^ "^^ «""'"! 
much scandal in the neiehb^^hLi t ''""'^ »*' ^im, gave 

deatb.bed.when,wor:b;fa.^:nrtil'r' "',*'"' P»'^^«' 
qmetly away, leaving a lif^W vnW ' k ^'"'"'' '^« «>'bed 
;«d home. All this^Jtt tefk °f thi " ^f'"""^'" ''^'^ 
George Eliot was a girl a^dh« . "^^*~''''<~<' ''hen 
allowed nothing to esS™' ^ ^"^ "'^aordinary memory 

On the completion of .Amos Barton,. Mr. Lewes, who... 



-n.-^.mJl 



Ixzyi 



OEOBGS ELIOT. 



already mentioned, was a contributor to 'Maga,' sent the 
MS. to the editor, the late Mr. John Blackwood, as the work 
of an anonymous friend. This was in the autumn of 1866. 
The other scenes of ' Clerical Life " were then unwritten, but 
the editor was informed that the story submitted to his 
approval formed one of a series. Though his judgment was 
favorable, he begged to see some of the other tales before 
accepting this, freely making some criticisms on the plot and 
studies of character in 'Amos Barton.' This, however, dis- 
heartened the author, whose peculiar diffidence had only been 
overcome by Mr. Lewes's hearty commendation. When the 
editor had been made awaie of the injurious effect of his 
objections, he hastened to efface it by accepting the tale 
without further delay. It appeared soon afterwards in BUuk- 
wood't Magazine for January 1867, where it occupied the first 
place. This story, by some considered as fine as anything 
the novelist ever wrote, came to an end in the next number. 
'Mr. Gilfil's Love-story' and 'Janet's Bopentanoe ' were 
written in quick succession, and the series was completed in 
November of the same year. 

Although there was nothing sufficiently sensational in these 
' Scenes ' to arrest the attention of that great public which 
must be roused by something new and startling, literary 
judges were not slow to discern the powerful realism with 
which the author had drawn these uncompromising studies 
from life. After the appearance of 'Amos Barton,' Mr. 
Blackwood wrote to the anonymous author: "It is a long 
time since I have read anything so fresh, so humorous, and 
so touching. The style is capital, conveying so much in so 
few words." Soon afterwards he began another letter : " My 
dear Amos, I forget \thether I told you or Lewes that I had 
shown part of the MS. to Thackeray. He was staying with 
me, and having been out at dinner, came in about eleven 
o'clock, when I had just finished reading it. I said to him, 
'Do you know that I think I have lighted upon a new author, 
who is uncommonly like a first-class passenger." I showed 
him a page or two, I think the passage where the curate 
returns home and Milly is first introduced. He would not 
pronounce whether it came up to my ideas, but remarked 



.4#i :f 



teats m ciBBiojx up, ,, .. 

a woman. I„ the meanwhile LL, ^'"' '*"" ''""«» by 
collected form, and the? were ^ . ' I**™ '^P^^'ed in a 
^ritmg to Mr-'Lewesat tlU orr""^ '"^^ '^« «"«'<'■•! 
b»ok had hardly been out a month If. ^^ ^^- '"'en the 
21u.t haa fairly achieved a iS Z f i' *° '"'^' " ^"^S- 
"'d the public must follow Sou/h^°°'""°"»J'«^»««. 
And in a letter to George Etl^'t Wlf h ""^ '*''« «"«•" 
"You will recollect, when we proS^ ^"'" •- February: 
"ion was that the series ha^^non^l!? T'°'' "^ '"P-^'- 
inagazine to give you a hoWon L^n ?* '°°"«'' '" ""> 
long enough to make your iL^l'^ "^ P""'"' '^«'°"«li 
e^^oeptional cases, a ver^ ion. ^TV^''^'^°°- ^"l'««> in 
two stages of repnt.u7lZl^°^'' fT"' '*"'««° 'he 
progress will be ,«r«, if „ot so autw^ ''" P"''""- ^°" 

While the sketches wele^2^';''«f.''«'^»ld wish." 
Messrs. Blackwood informe" ite aLlT'T'' '" book-form, 
cause for "■aWng a large Serene X; fortl "'^ ''^ 8°°^ 

All sorts of rumors were abroad as Jrt, ^^ '** ««'"'««• 
clerical tales. Misled by al^t J? ?! f ""^ """"" "^ 'bese 
the real scent, Mr. Blackw^ J'J^rfi 'f'^ *" '^""' "•" "« 
»ion that they were the w„k oT^^ ' "°''"' *'"' i"'P««^ 
perhaps have been the orTe^n of .MvT°"^' ■""* *bis may 
qmte recently, that GeZ'^Em'lZ"^ ""«*''•' "" 
clergyman a statement made bv sL^ l""" •'*"s'"<" "^ a 
papers after her death rblndon^?,^ V^" '"^'''°» "aily 
■nan, Mr. Blackwood next fixed "i^* ''"' ""«» °^ the clergy, 
person to wit, Professor Owen wb'^mV''^ ''"'''"'°* "■"* °f 
the similarity of hand-writingand th« ^^^ '".T'*'^ ""'"^ 'o 
except.o„^ in a novelist No !es, ftn '"^''v''°°^'*'Je« "<> 



mmm'^M4imMi^m 



Uxviii 



OEOROE ELIOT. 



that Bulwer has gone the way of all fashions, it seems in. 
credible that the most obtuse and slow-witted of critics should 
have mistaken for a moment his high-flown sentimental style 
for the new author's terse, vigorous, and simple prose. 

It was impossible, however, for an author to remain a mere 
nameless abstraction. An appellation of some kind became 
an imperative necessity, and, during the passage of 'Mr 
Gilfil's Love-Stoiy' through the press the pseudonym of 
George Eliot"— a name destined to become so justly re- 
nowned — was finally assumed. 

The 'Scenes of Clerical Life ' were to George Eliof s future 
works what a bold, spirited sketch is to a carefully elaborated 
picture. All the qualities that distinguished her genius may 
be discovered in this, her first essay in fiction. With all Miss 
Austen's matchless faculty for painting common-place charac 
ters, George Eliot has that' other nobler faculty of showing 
what tragedy, pathos, and humor may be lying in the ex- 
perience of a human soul "that looks out through dull gray 
eyes, and that speaks in a voice of quite ordinary tones." 
While depicting some common-place detail of every-day life, 
she has the power to make her reader realize its close relation 
to the universal life. She never gives you the mere dry bones 
and fragments of existence as represented in some particular 
section of society, but always manages to keep before the 
mind the invisible links connecting it with the world at large. 
In 'Mr. Gilfil's Love-Story ' there is a passage as beautiful as 
any in her works, and fully illustrating this attitude of her 
mind. It is where Tina, finding herself deceived in Cap- 
tain Wybrow, gives way to her passionate grief in solitude. 

"While this poor little heart was being bruised with a 
weight too heavy for it, Nature was holding on her calm in- 
exorable way, in unmoved and terrible beauty. The stars 
were rushing in their eternal courses ; the tides swelled to the 
level of the last expectant weed ; the sun was making brilliant 
day to busy nations on the other side of the swift earth. The 
stream of human thought and deed was hurrying and broaden- 
ing onwsrd. The astronomer was at his telescope ; the great 
ships were laboring over the waves ; the toiling eagerness of 
commeree, the fierce spirit of revolution, were only ebbing in 



SCENES OP CLERICAL LIFE. 



... *"• Ixxix 

trouble in this n^ghu tT^ut ™h-" '"^" '^'"^ -^d !>" 
known to another? L^-'tZ 1^ ^'""^ °°* "''f"! ""' 
quivering life in the water^™„T^i^ ""*^^*'' '=«°'™ °f 
the pulse of anguish in^?£?^ ^At".'"'^ "'"'''"'I ^^ -^ 
fluttered dowtfto its nesVwitt^L w ' ""'f' '''"* ''"*' ^^^^ 
fomui the nest torn and 7^^" '°°8-«°»8''' f-^, ^d ha« 

thanrei^he??f"thrtwootw"s^ ">" »'<"7 of Mr. Gilfi, 

•AaosBarton'th^ivi^L ' ?^'°^^^^^^^^ ^'^«' ^- 
been indicated ; andX eiemenl f '""P''"*' ^ ''^ "''^""iy 
PeatanceMs composed are asS '"'" ''^''='' 'J-wst's ««- 
•nent of plot. The author ZuZ aT ^1^ T^'^^ ^'"'^^g'e- 
oircmstances of Engliriife t/. th '^'' *^/ '"°^' "^'^'^^'y 
the human emotions which sDr^nlf ^T^''^ rendering of 
vivid hold Of the imagination .^^'2 Gilfi,.''r *f ^' ^ ■""«' 
ever, seems a little Italian roman™^ ! I-ove-Story,' how- 

It is, in brief, the mrmion of hi «"'T.'' .°" ^^S'"*" =«!• 
and his wife, duriueXtr ri "f ^" Christopher Cneverel 
little orphan girl -iS^^i'^'frt''' ^'^'"'' """^ P'ty on a 
queer little f^e like the pS'Tl''^*^ »^°°« ^-^ out he^ 
parved in old ivory." cXinaTr -^ ' '" t «'°'«'iue image 
^k to Cheverel^a^^J^^C^nl^^he is called, takl^ 
Baronet's wife, to whom ahl^Jl f *' ^^^ '^ »f the 
tional musical talent. Sir Chri?^„h""l™f'^ ^^ ^'' «««P- 
had chosen his nephew Canto7nt& I' ^^ "° °*'"dren, but 
planned a marriage between ht Z^""' ^°' ^" ^""^ and 
3ome and accomplisred ownerof"". ^T ''''^'- '^^ ^^and- 
carriage, on which he has equ^^^L't S. T'^''^ ^o*"- 
his ward Maynard Gilfil Toln ]''*"''""'*' between 
destined for the Church a^dT ^'n ""^^'^ y°"°8 f«»ow 
Tina, for whom he ha^ lon„ n ?«"°w.voiced, large-eyed 
But alas, for the fu'tifify SumrlnT- "t'"'"^'' '-"- 
elegant Anthony Wybrow h^ vl ^ ' ^'"^ *° "horn the 

suffers tortures of SoTsT in h? T«"^ P^^^^^'-^S ""ve, 
he has dutifully bicome IgagTd eVm^f ^^"« ^.^I'". to whom' 
Manor. The treacherous clXin f^T,?^v^ "'" *" C''«'«'"l 
betrothed, insinuates Uu^ 3^ S^i!! T^^' '"'P'"°°« "^ his 
P«0' Miss faaru entertains a hope- 



Ixxx 



OEOROE ELIOT. 



less passion for him, which puts the poor girl, who gets an 
inklmg of this double^ealing, into a frenzy of indignation. 
In this state she possesses herself of a dagger, and as she is 
going to meet the Captain by appointment, dreams of plunging 
the weapon in the traitor's heart. But on reaching the aiv 
pointed spot, she beholds the false lover stretched motion^ 
less on the ground already - having suddenly.died of heart 
disease Tina's anguish is indescribable: she gives the alarm 
to the household, but stung by remorse for a contemplated 
revenge of which her tender-hearted nature was utterly in- 
^pable, she flies unperceived from the premises at night 
Being searched for in vain, she is suspected of having com- 
mitted suicide. After some days of almost unbearable sus- 
pense, news IS brought that Tina is lying ill at the cottage of 
a former maid in the household. With reviving hopeTher 
anxious lover rides to the farm, sees the half.«tunued, unhappy 
girl, and, after a while, manages to remove her to his sister's 
house. She gradually recovers under Mrs. Heron's gentle 
tendance, and one day a child's accidental striking of a deep 
bass note on the harpsichord suddenly revives her old passionate 
delight in music. And ' the soul that was bom anew to music 
was born anew to love.' After a while Tina agrees te become 
Mr. G.Ifal s wife who has been given the living at Shepperton, 
where a happy future seems in store for the Vicar. "But the 
delicate plant had been too deeply bruised, and in the struggle 
to put forth a blossom it died. 

"Tina died, and Maynard Gilfil's love went witt her into 
deep silence forevermore." 

sit^^nlt' ""'' 'y^P'^^^y with the homeliest characters and 
TTT'/'' '^°1 P™P«'ly «P«»king, springing from it, 
there already runs through these three tales the delicious vein 
o ^T°;.™d.ating George Eliot's otherwise sombre ^ctuZ 
of life with sudden flashes of mirth as of sunlight trembling 

George Eliot not only takes precedence of aU other distin- 
^ished women, but she stands among them without a rival 

otseUIt on Ttfl' °"'"""' •"" '''«' "'''* -«-'« -ioPt^o* 
blunZ !,. »'if '°« °''"' °^ "''' inconsistencies and the 
blunders, the self-delusions and "fantastic pranks" of her 



I 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. 



'"• Ixxxi 

feUow-men, finds the source of lau^hc^, 
never going out of her way for th. "^^ '""" <» *^'»; 

tumn nature, seeing t Jtfuman n,*"""''! "°/°d P*'''^^' « 
M the epitome of all inc^ngruTtv It" .. f "P^^"" *° ''« 
tion and unerringness of visk-n ^i. ■ ''l" ''™*"' °^ oo^cep- 
and accidental tl the core of "an'e ^i* T°'"''' *''« "'""'^ 
certain of her creations something of Te jiHr '''"'' ^"^ 
of Shakespeare's. * '™ "fe-like complexity 

artisILfard'^^u^rf^otSilirw "^ """""'" °* ?«'"''■"». 
and phrases of pmons oZtrv or^.v *^' ^^'^^estures 
varieties of inhabitants of our^ J 1'°"*"' ^"^ »*''" 
districts, already manrstsLj^f/r-"""'' *°^'"' a°d rural 
Here we find such ^1 L m' ^^^^ "'*'"""' "'«»«" """e^ 
brutal, drunken lawye^ Mr l.n?""^?^'''' *''" ""'"'upulous, 
mannered, and aplutSg^^etor ^Zfu, ? '^'^'^*^^' ""^^I.- 
wg and blistering his patienU M^nZf^ ^^'"^^ *° "eed- 
wth a tender lofe-sto^ hTdde'n^'n f l"'' eccentric vicar, 
the large-hearted, unfortunate In^. ^'"»«8«d exterior 
by Mr T^an. th; asce«c evangSl'w '""° ■?°^' ••"'» 
acter, the author remarks mi^hf W. elergyman, whose char- 
•ng in perfection by feeb e ifd ^Za"" ^'"""* "^^f ''ant- 
adds, "The blessedUk of hSi/!'''^"«,"'i"'la, but, as she 
does not wait to be done by Irfecfm^ world forward happily 
that neither Luther nor So'^f 1^^ ° ' fn" ''''•''^,'^ •'"''8i°« 
bave satisfied the modern demanTfn' T""^^"' ''°"W 
believes nothing but That is tn? , ?' "" '^'^ ''«™' ''bo 
exalted, and dLs 1^1 but ^'hlf^ """""« *"" ^'^" '« 
Heroes of God's makingafe a, i J^ .r" «''^'^"'- ^he real 
natural heritage of lovf and T .'•'^^^n'-- they have their 
-ith their m^hert milk . thev kno?""'' "'"'"' '"^^ "J-- in 
spiritual truths whiXaw oYlv t^'L °' ,'''° °* ''>°»« deep 
with their own sins and tlSw^.^ ^"^ ^^ '""S wrestling 
faith and strength so far al thl^h ''^^ '^'^ ^^'' '^"'^ 
but the rest is dry barrel fh!f ^m ''°'"' S*""*"" work, 
hearsay." ^' '*™° ""^^'y. blank prejudice, vague 

c.S^:haXr?hSttr ii" r-^'^p^^ °^ ^-o 

- its manifestations. ^CSr ^ ^£«^^e in 



IzzzU 



OEORGE ELIOT. 



these '80^.' in . Janet's Bepentanoe ' we already discover 
one of Geo^ Baiot's favorite psychologioal studies -the 
awakening of a moraUy mixed nature to a new, a spiritual lif.s. 
This ^rk of regeneration Mr. Trjran performs for Janet, 
Pehx Holt for Esther, and Daniel Deronda for Gwendolei^ 
Her protest against the application of too lofty a moral stand- 
ard in judging of our fellow-creatures, her championship of 
the "mongrel, ungainly dogs who are nobody's pets," is 
another of the prominent qualities of her genius fully ex- 
pressed m this firstling work, being, indeed, at the root of her 
liumorous conception of life. One of the finest bits of humor 
in the present volume is the scene in 'Amos Barton" which 
occurs at the workhouse, euphemistically called the " CoUeire." 
Mr. Barton, having just finished his address to the paupeii is 
thus accosted by Mr. Spratt, " a small-featured, small-stotured 
man, with a remarkable powir of language, mitigated by hesi- 

s^hLhT ^"^""^ ""'""l" °" "P^Mi-g unexceptionable 
sentiments in unexceptionable language on all occasions. 

Mr. Barton, sir — aw - aw — excuse my trespassing on 
your time _ aw -to beg that you will administer a rebX to 
tms boy; he is - aw - aw - most inveterate in Ul-behavior 
during semce-time.' uou»ywr 

" The inveterate culprit was a boy of seven, vainly contend- 

sooner had Mr. Spratt uttered his impeachment than M^ 
Fodge rushed forward, and placed herself between Mr. Barton 
and the accused. "~i«<u 

™I'?''?''' r^""""^' M.°ster Barton,' she exclaimed, further 
n^ifesting her maternal instincts by applying herapron to 

a.poundin> him for nothin.' Let him goo an' eat his ^oost 
goose as is ^smellin' ,p in our noses wUle we 'reTsw^le^g 
them greasy broth, an' let my bov alooan.' 

"Mr. Spratt's small eyes flashed, and he was in danger of 
nttenng sentiments not unexceptionable befor., the clergyman : 
wnnw'' ^f^°'J°^f.f'^g that a prolongation of this episode 
would not be to edification, said 'Silence!' in his severest 

» ' Let me hear no abuse. Your boy is not likely to behave 



ADAM BEDE. 



luxiii 



■Wwll, if you set him the examnU „» u.- 
ing dowu to MMter Fo^!n^ iv °«.^>«'J'-' Then stoop- 
' I>o /ou like being^^^', """^ '^"'8 ^ by the shouldeV" 
"'No— a." 

" ' ''■'»«" what a silly boy yon »«. t„ K« 
''ere not naughty, you would nV^ ^ . °*°«''*^- " 7°" 
naughty, God will' 1^ ^^y, L weU ^m\ ^"' ^ y"" "« 
ow burn yo« forever. That^JiuTl . \ ^P™" ' ■"'* 0°d 

"Master Fodee's nn„nf ^ "''"' '''a" being beaten ' 

negative of ^.^lL;:^r'^ '"" ''-'^« afflrmftive no'r 

*^'w^^;or;5i^;„^'•';^'you wUlbeagood boy. 
Now. let .e hear 'ne. iru^X^^T Xl^ ^^^ ^ 



CHAPTER Vin. 

■4DAM BEDB. 

-^hS^cuSre! sTh « Sel^" '"'' '''''' -"^ " &- 
We haye seen her girZ^Z^^^ ^J"' '^ *^°'»« Eliot, 
variety of studies, wfha^serhr/'*'' "" ««raordinary 
physical "Peculati'orj wXye s2''i"T'' *° ="«*"«« "«<^ 
the most laborious phiTosonhLl • ''", '^'""ating some of 
thinkers; we haye seen W '"^^'''"Sations of German 

the < Ethics ' of Spino^ tn T\°, *"""'''"«» from the Latin 

ing. and attracted~ome of tt ^' 7 "'"^ "''«'' "«' ^"-"^ 
ophy, and literature ^ ^''*'^''"' « ^o'^^e, philos- 

Compared with such qualifications »!,„ 
compete ? What could a Dictn" ^r° T"^"°^'"«'« e°uld 
throw into the opposing sca^eTr/ ^.^^ackeray himself, 
for her in yariety of aftlinlnf ^ITv""^""'"' '^'» » "atch 

attempts at fiction, and LatLn? l'.^'^ """^^ '«-«''^l 
Whenatlas,inthematur^;\rh1r^;i-j;-a^^^^^ 



l\y 



(xxzir 



OBORQE ELIOT. 



r^^tl^T ^^'J ''" P"^"**^ » '«'^" « "Woh th« amplest 
mulU of knowledge and meditation were so happUy Uek^ 

Stiu!rr''T"'" '"'^'^P itiamediatelyas one o7tte 
great triumph, and masterpieces in the world of fiction. 

f i«, ! ^v noticmg that in 'Adam Bede' Qeonre Eliot 

fu^fals to the utmost the demands which she had^ tt^ 

retioal y advocating in her essays. In some oflhesTshe h^ 

not only eloquently enforced the importance of a trnthft^ 

^U8 7„°Th, '""""' ""' "^ pointed out how the S 2 
thus in the very vanguard of social and political reform. 

o" L Z rr!,?* '■"'«i»''«°" 'ith Z real cond tTon' 
wifw^ P ' ^"^'^ '""'''' towards creating that sympathy 
w.th their wants, their trials, and their sufferin^rS 

And in D^kens she had recognized the one great novelist 
who, m certain respects, had painted the lowef orders with 
unerring truthfulness. His "Oliver Twists," hs«Ccy» 
h s -Joes,,' were terrible and pathetic pictures of the forlorn 
outeasts haunting our London streets And if. as Geor« 
Ehot says, Dickens had been able to "give ,« their psTch^ 
bgic^ character, their conception of life' and their em^l" 

would t T" *"!*'' ■" *'"" ''^'°'» ""1 °«"°«". hi* book^ 
TwaSntf nf T'Y contribution Art has ever made to the 
awakening of sociai sympathies." Now George Eliot abso- 
lutely does what Dickens aimed at doing. She not meX 

She pierces with unernng vision to the very core of their 

JinnTL? *"**'?' "' ^ "*'"« *»»« peculiarly subtle rela- 
tions between character and ciroumstauce. Her primary 
object IS to excite our sympathy with the most ordinary 
aspects of human life, with the people that one may meet any 
day in the fields, the workshops, and the homes of England 
Her most vivid creations are not exceptional beings, not men 
or women preeminently conspicuous for sublime heroism ot 
character or magnificent mental endowments, but work-a-day 

" Not too fine or f;ood 
For hnmu nature's dnily food." 



l^lJ. p. 



i'5-. 



ADAM BKDS. 



IxzxT 



IXXXT 

WWdnes, with whioh tte .Lerv!!;H T'"*^ *'"" "^"""''o 
Mem projected on the ^Jl "^t ^P^". '" ' ^^am Bede ' 

Idea that it i, entirely founded " ft»r?«'''«° "»« t" t^e 
» anbetratiun is hardlv T™.** ^.'- ^'^^ ""'w » such 
■-en variou. pubS ValTtX t:""' ""l *""'"' '"'- 
character, in 'Adam Bede ' we- * *? ^T """ "'^ «'•«' 
oopiea of living people but of I! , , °°'^ "^^ ^ti>'^ 
ite author. To some extent t^L ?!? "'"""'^ '°"°««"«d *ith 
the other hand, there is »i^,V ■°«"'t«''ertible. But, on 

1-ving in theiXtn^rn Utd oTL°' ^^'"'*'''°- -^^^^^^ 
occurrences, till the whole h«h. ^"'^ Personages and 

to lead som; person, IZ fir™ ^'^"'!. "" ^"""'^ ^g^^Eher as 
« absolutely identi^^t/™**"!?"''"" that Binah Morris 
byshire Methodist. Such L^. Elizabeth Evans, the Der- 
cile the conflicting stai*^ ^C i"" 7° "^'^ ^"'P ^^ 'o^"- 
novelist and the wnWf^„ P°°.''''"'^^ ""^o by the great 
'8eU> Bede. the Me ho^y'/^s ^rJf 't 'T'" ^ ''^^^^^ 
O^'tsir ""^"' "^^ '^'^e^^ot-l^ SSiJI; 

^0 of EUaston, not far Lfl^KT'""'' ''^'"f. " th^ 
Tl»« village is so little "temi tW^.""i!.'° Staffordshire, 
see the sign-board of the "D^lS,"' '*'« ^^^cUer may still 
^lok hall, only with windows no '„ ^™'''" ^"^ ^'> "xi 
Wilham, and Robert EvanTrth" f ?f ' "?P»t«bed. Samuel, 
born in this place, and lL«n m •"" °* '^^ °°^«"«t) ''ere 
father before them. SamudT, J!' '"'T«'"«". as their 
^.st, and was rather laughed at bvhi^"? " ^'«^°"'' ^etho- 
for he says, »My elder brothel' J^'^^i" """''•''l"^""''' 
they entertained High Churoh^ ■ • , *"^ *" ^^ "ei 
what great blunders I made in T"".;-'- "^^'^ "^^^ '^^ 
I had ™or« zeal than knowtedg T'^^ .t"" P™^"' *>>-' 
respects, he is the prototyw of s.*>. •"' "" '" °*^«' 

«"^t Evans, one o? the'^m^ LS5 ^ thTo^Jly 



IXXZTI 



OIORQB BLIOT. 



Much U. been written about this Elizabeth Eran. (the 
•unt of Oeorge Eliot, «lre«iy .poken oQ: indeed, her life 

•uoh imperfect fragment, of it as hare been committed to 
F&K^ 1^ " ^" '""'"^ "^ °' "--oiderable interest, 
hir f^h 71! •"" t' ^'"'~''* '° I*i«"t«nAire. and left 
her fathert house when little more than fourteen year. old. 

^nUrf ""•• ^'^'^"*' i" 1'97, after which she had 
entirely done with the pleasures of the world and all her old 
compjmion.. "I saw it my duty," she says, "to We off 
all my .uperflmtie. of dress, hence I pulled off all my 
bunches, cut off my curls, left off my lace, and in this I found 
an unspeakable pleasure. I saw I could niake a better use 
^J» Ll°? """'y "'*'' *° ^°"<"' *•»« fashion, of a rain 

Zl; . ^^'\t!^ • •^""^"' y""* 8"1. attired Ta 
Quaker dress and bonnet, she used to walk across those bleak 
Derbyshue hils, looking so strangely mournful in their tree- 
less nudity, with their bare stone fences gray against a grayer 
sky. Here she trudged from village to Tillage, gathering the 
poor about her, and pouring forth words of such earnest con- 
viction that, as she says, " Many were brought to the Lord " 
The points of resemblance between her career and that of 
Dinah Moms cannot fail to strike the reader, even their 
phraseology being often singularly alike, as when Mrs. Evans 
writes in the short account of what she calls her "unprofitable 
life : I saw it my duty to be wholly devoted to God, and 
to be set apart for the Master's use;" whUe Dinah says: 
'My life IS too short, and God's work is too great for me to 
think of making a home for myself in this world." It must 
be borne in mind, however, that these similarities of expres- 
sion are natural enough when one considers that Dinah is a 
type of the same old-fashioned kind of Methodism to which 
.Mrs. Evans belonged. What is perhaps stranger is, that the 
Rcmnnt given by George Eliot of her various meetings with 
her aunt. Mrs Elizabeth Evans, should differ considerably 
from what the latter herself remembered or has stated about 
tnem. Shortly after the appearance of 'Adam Bede,' atten- 



dfe^.. 



ADAH BEOS. 



in Jinnotg of 
f^nnJ^^' ^"ZABETH EVANS. 

(mOWW TO THB WORrn .. „ ^ 

TO HOURS, 
.». « '"■ '■"^ O' CHBI8T • 

'"■ """ " T" lO«D. MAY »TH iZI' 

faend Mis, Hennell on JhT 7th of lf°^'"'*''« terms to her 
I'ke, while the subject is nVidhrn ^'*'' ""»= "r»l>ould 
"ore exactly than I have Im ilf ?"" "'"» "">' ^ tell yo„ 
aunt, Elizabeth Evans. MyfaH,, ^°'"''^'^' I k-ew of „' 
"•okshire all my life with him r* ^°" '""''• "^'d » Wm^ 
-hire first, and then Derb™£^' t"''^ ^"'^'y ^t Stafforf. 
married my mother TC^"h°Lf''^''V'''« before he 
tween my father's family ZViH^ -^l^' intercourse be- 
«h re, and our famil^ _^ew S far P^'^^-^"" and Staffed- 
oluldish feeling) stran™ 2Z I '*"'*'"■ "^"^ ot (to my 
my father's fafi.ffnrvecottv '/"""' ""' ■""""" ^™m 
own, as a little child, with Ty tth° T " ^""""y "^ my 

maS.SVwrnfrsroVtheT-'^^' ""^ -*«' -« 
journey into I)erbyshi« i„ ^Lh'vr''' " ""^ ^^*«" ^^ a 
Samuel, who were very ^Z. and iiveH""* 7 """'« «"d «"nt 
W^ksworth. he found^ ^ 'a^^f tl Z^Z^^l^^- 



.&s.wst' 'mmm^mrimmm^mmmESEMm 




Miarocorr rbouition tkt oun 

(AN«I cind ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 




jL 



/APPLIED IMHGE Inc 

1653 East Main Street 

RochMtar, N«« York 14609 USA 

(716) 463 -03D0-Phona 

(716) 266-5989 -Fox 



Izzxviii 



QKOBGE ELIOT. 






health after a serious illness, and, to do her bodily good, he 
persuaded her to return with him, telling her that / should be 
very, rery happy to have her with me for a few weeks. I was 
then strongly under the influence of evangelical belief, and 
earnestly endeavoring to shape this anomalous English- 
Christian life of ours into some consistency with the spirit 
and simple verbal tenor of the New Testament. I was de- 
lighted to see my aunt. Although I had only heard her 
spoken of as a strange person, given to a fanatical vehemence 
of exhortation in private as well as public, I believed that I 
should find sympathy between us. She was then an old 
woman — above sixty — and, I believe, had for a good many 
years given up preaching. A tiny little woman, with bright, 
small dark eyes, and hair that had been black, I imagine, but 
was now gray — a pretty woman in her youth, but of a totally 
different physical type from Dinah. The difference — as you 
will believe — was not simply physical; no difference is. She 
was a woman of strong natural excitability, » jioh I know, 
from the description I have heard my father and half-sister 
give, prevented her from the exercise of discretion under the 
promptings of her zeal. But this vehemence was now sub- 
dued by age and sickness ; she was very gentle and quiet in 
her manners, very loving, and (what she must have been from 
the very first) a truly religious soul, in whom the love of God 
and love of man were fused together. There was nothing 
rightlj distinctive in her religious conversation. I had had 
much intercourse with pious dissenters before ; the only fresh- 
ness I found in her talk came from the fact that she had been 
the greater part of her life a Wesleyan, and though the left t?ie 
society when women were no longer allowed to preach, and 
joined the New Wegleyans, she retained the character of 
thought that belongs to the genuine old Wesleyan. I had 
never talked with a Wesleyan before, and we used to have 
little debates about predestination, for I was then a strong 
Calvinist. Here her superiority came out, and I remember 
now, with loving admiration, one thing which at the time 
I disapproved; it was not strictly a consequence of her 
Arminian belief, and at first sight might seem opposed to 
it, yet it came from the spirit of love which clings to the 



ADAH BEDE. 



Izxxiz 



who from the action of trouble upon him, hS^e^to sS 
tapphng, though otherwise not culpable .luWhS-^The 
good man's in heaven for aU thal^' said my uncle ' ofv^* 

»a]A «« ?^; ^u^ I "meml*r in our lonely sittings and 

seen in /LT/! t l^ •'^'^ ""'* '*» '^<'«"» "/ thmw 
seen t» Me j,i<„,. in he^ ^^^^^^ ^j / «^ 

z:^: L°d7;';'^ 'j^t^'^ ' ^ ""'^ ---•-^ h z/a"i 

manner, and the deep feeling I had under the recital Of fh. 

sTe tt "" "°''"^' ' •""^^«' " *°1<J -" "S; buftha 
TheTn^-/ .T""""' '^*"« 8''!' """""'"d of chUd-murder 

remember distinctly, as matter iTo'uld write down "of ^ 

'Dinrh°''wT-'"^^y'°^^^- ^- -e howst s~J 

D nah ; but it is not possible you should see J T l^w 

entirely her individuality differed from • Dinahl" How curl 



" GEORGE ELIOT. 

ou» it seems to me that people should think ' Dinah's ' sennon, 
prayers, and speeches were copied, when they were written 
with hot tears as they surged up in my own mind 1 

"As to my indebtedness to facts of local and personal history ^ 
of a small kind connected with Staffordshire and Derbyshire 
you may imagine of what kind that is, when I tell you that I 
never remained in either of those counties more than a few 
days together, and of only two such visits have I more 
than a shadowy, interrupted recollection. The details which 
I know as facts, and have made use of for my picture, 
were gathered from such imperfect allusion and narrative 
as I heard from my father in his occasional talk about old 
times. 

"As to my aunt's children or grandchildren saying, If they 
did say, that 'Dinah' is a good portrait of my aunt, that is 
simply the vague, easily satisfied notion imperfectly instructed 
people always have of portraits. It is not surprising that 
simple men and women, without pretension to enlightened 
discrimination, should think a generic resemblance consti- 
tutes a portrait, when we see the great public, so accustomed 
to be delighted with mis-representations of life and character 
which they accept as representations, that they are scandalized 
when art makes a nearer approach to truth. 

"Perhaps I am doing a superfluous thing in writing all 
this to you, but I am prompted to do it by the feeling that in 
future years 'Adam Bede,' and all that concerns it, may have 
become a dim portion of the past, and that I may not be able 
to recall so much of the truth as I have now told ycu." 

Nothing could prove more conclusively how powerful was 
the impression which ' Adam Bede ' created than this con- 
troversy concerning the amount of truth which its characters 
contained. But, as hinted before, it seems very likely that 
some of the doings and sayings of the fictitious personages 
should have been attributed, almost unconsciously, to the real 
people whom they resembled. How quick is the popular 
imagination in effecting these transformations came only quite 
recently under my notice, when some English travellers, while 
visiting Chftteau d'lf, were taken by the guide in perfect good 
faith to see the actual dungeon where Xonte Cristo was im- 



•ADAM BEDE. 



xei 



nn 

wards erroneously ascriC X, M 3^'^°P« ^^ been after- 
account recently puwS Tn fh?' ^'''"*='*'' ^^''"'■- «"' an 
who had long'LSo.n the E^nsesTlt^'^"'' "^^-^ 
irreconcUable with such a a,mn„.v ^"^'">'th, seems 
writer it would apnea" that K^" ^"'^^'^'^8 to this 
Wirksworth, of wS Veol^Elt". \""'' *° '^^^ '"'°* »' 
quoted, there was one Xfof whioTfo'"™ '*' ''"" ^"'" 
■I'lus visit, which she naid iZ 7 ■ ,, "ei^t'on is made, 
occurred in 1842, when^she rel "?""' *^'- ^""""^l ^vans, 
Wirksworta. The aun^ «nH '^'"ained a week at his house in 
each other every^ fo'seZ^ 1"' '" the habit of seeing 
usually met at tL hous^orol t .?" ** '^^ *^«- They 
Mrs. Elizabeth ErantCdinX!,?^' -uarried daughters of 
by themselves in the parlor ^Tr"^'"*''''''' ''''"« ""i-« 
says the writer of the wticle «.„! I '^"'** conversations," 
family, and one day "ne o^ th«T uT' """"'"y '" '^e 
can't think what thee Z Marv AnH ''" '^'^' ''*°'''«'> I 
so much.' To which Mrs Evan« , ^^ «^°* *° *alk about 
don't know what she wante h?. T''"^"' '^^"' "^^ dear, I 
about my life and my r^irio;, ' ^'' "" *° *«" ber ku 

down in a little b^k. T^VrnT""!' "f ''« P"'^ i* »" 
for."' After her departurrMrs Pv/ • ^'"* '^^ "^"^^ *' 
said to her daughter, "Oh dear M * '? '^^"^^ *» bave 
did not mean her to take awtv 7^°° ^^ «°* °°« tbing I 
first sermoni preached S Stonlr^e'*^ f" ""*«« "* ">« 
same authority, Marian Evanslfok n^f , ^""o^ding to the 
said in her hearing: no maLU '^*'y*'°8 people 

went into the note-book, X^seeme".''"' '''"'^^«' <^°"" i' 
and these notes she is s^d to\r * ^^"°"* "^ ^^"^ band; 
before going to bed. yetthi^K^K? ''^-^'bed eveiy night 
character, and tCfriends tt tnlT '°™'«° *° ^'^ ^^°^^ 
youth and later life never reme^SHeeiLT' '°'""^*«'^ ""^ 
a practice. Be that as it mav thn^f u^ ^^ '■^'°''' *° such 
novelist very freely ,^edZ; !fth„ ^ °° '^°°''* '^'^t 'be 



I 



.tl 



*'"' GEORGE EUOT. 

trayed, as they happened to be both dead. Bartie Massey 
the village cynio, had been the schoolmaster of her father' 
Bobert Evans. How accurately the latter, together with all 
his surroundings, was described is shown by the following 
anecdote. On its first appearance 'Adam Bede' was read 
aloud to an old man, an intimate associate of Robert Evans in 
his Staffordshire days. This man knew nothing concerning 
either author or subject beft ehand, and his astonishment was 
boundless on recognizing so many friends and incidents of his 
own youth portrayed with unerring fidelity. He sat up half 
the night listening to the story in breathless excitement, now 
and then slapping his knee as he exclaimed, "That 's Robert, 
that 's Bobert to the life." 

Although Wirksworth is not the locality described in 'Adam 
Bede, it contains features recalling that quaint little market- 
town where over the door of one of the old-fashioned houses 
may be read the name made illustrious by the inimitable Mrs. 
Poyser In the neighborhood, too, are " Arkwright's mUls 
there a ^ Cromford," casually alluded to by Adam Bede : and 
should tiie tourist happen to enter one of the cottages of gray 
stone, with blue-washed door and window-frames, he may 
still alight on specimens of Methodism, as devout as Seth 
Bede, eloquently expounding the latest political event by some 
prophecy of Daniel or -zekiel. In short, one breathes the 
atmosphere m which such characters as Dinah and Seth 
«!tuaUy lived and had their being. This uncompromising 
Realism, so far from detracting, only enhances the genius of 
this powerful novel. A thousand writers might have got hold 
of these Identical materials: a George Eliot alone could have 
cast these materials into the mould of 'Adam Bede' Let 
any one glance at the account of their religious experiences, 
as given by Elizabeth or Samuel Evans, and he will realize 
all the more strongly how great was the genius of her 
who transfused these rambling, common-place effusions into 
such an artistic whole. I have entered so minutely into this 
question of the 1 keness between the actual characters and 
those m the novel purely on account of the biographical inter- 
est attaching to it. In judging of ' Adam Bede ' as a .vork of 
art these facts possess next to no importance. If we could 



wmrmmuxmMJ ..^^dL^^^i^ 



ADAM BEDE. 
trace the characters in an 

human beings actually conne^t^l,>lf^'''''P*"«''' Pl^JS to 
».der such a disoovefy imm^X^r^ "« should con- 
li8ht on his own life. tWh' t w^^ull ^5 ' 1, ''"""^^ """^ 
estamate of the drama it.eff ^^'^^^ '^«<" <»» eritioal 

'AdLTde^rncirnSS^^- *^« ="— in 
ttatl,ttle„eed be added hewJS'Sf P*°P^tl'«y ^-emble, 
the youthful preacher, whoVe «ln ""•. ^""^ Morris J 

almost involuntary m;nSatati.1^^^"'"'''J'' *"" '^^ "'''"'J. 
soul; whose spring of We' s "A" 7"^' °^ » •^'"''ifu 
the narrow limits of private LiL! '"'°"fa''t that it overflows 

toiling, suiTering men'andw^ttK "Tr""''"'^- °f 
and sympathy — was a nZ ^ '*^ '^^^'th of pity, hone 

Some writer has ^uLll'"'^'""' '" *»»« world of ^ficZ 

sweet Derbyshire Kodistan'drhf"" f,"^°«y between the 
fessions form a very cnrionl ^h? . the gentle pietist whose con- 

thetwocharacters^arerdiSaXr''''"*'^"'"^^ 
■nan heroine is a dreamy pS ,„f """P""""- The Ger- 
much but doing litUe, whe^ tCTT""''^ nature, feeling 
'nquire too curiously ^Te tl^^'"^ P"'"'^"^ -^o's no? 
""ojed by the spi/t ^f its teXr" °' ^."^ ^'^'''' but 
participating in the lives of ^?^^^k ^^ "'»•" '"'timely, 
and her acts of charity On?J a i" ^ ^'L ""^'"K words 
described just such a woman L th^r ''°"" °' """^^ have 
centred in an impersS'de^ ^s '^^""^ ^^""^ ''««t is 
object of love; 4erea^ risw/ '° ,^y individual 

existence rooted in some perso^^affeStiT' '^''•^'' ^"^ ^' 
for parent or lover, child or husband Th ' ^f"°°' '''**'^«' 
romantically interesting than Hp,/ J''" .""^kes Dinah less 
fattenlike, self-involved crla^urewu^ t""*"' ^''^ beautiful, 
contrasted. Georpe Eliotn«!! / ""^"^ "''« " ''° bappiW 
this of Hetty, hidf« a lardTiltrerti'""/ ^^'^' 
dimpling beauty of hers xllin J^l l"^ "'"'"' ">^* soft 
would have depicted ju"' suth a H^.. \?i"* ""'^ "^ ''""^n 
charms of this young rirf^fe drawn^- "^ ^^'l' ^^« P^^^^al 



xdv 



OEORGE ELIOT. 



F 



J, 



R , 



li 



a cherry wi a hard stone inside it." George Eliot is nove» 
dazzled or led away by her own bewitching creation as a man 
would have been There is a certain pitUessness in her 
analysis of Hetty's shallow, frivolous little soul, almost as if 
she were saying- See here, what stuff this beauty wh'jh you 
adore IS made of in reality! To quote her own subtle, far. 
reaching interpretation of beauty: "Hetty's face had « 
language that transcended her feelings. There are faces which 
nature charges with a meaning and pathos not belonging to 
the simple human soul that flutters beneath them, but speak- 
ing the joys and sorrows of foregone generations ; eyes that 
tell of deep love which doubtless has been and is somewhere 
but not paired with these eyes, perhaps paired with pale eyes 
tiiat can say nothing, just as a national language may be 
instinct with poetry unfelt by the lips that use it" 

The sensation created by 'Adam Bede ' was shown in other 
ways besides the claim of some to have discovered the original 
characters of this striking novel. The curiosity of the public 
was naturally much exercised as to who the unknown author 
could possibly be, who had so suddenly leaped into fame 
And now there comes on the scene an individual who does not 
claim to be the living model of one of the characters por- 
trayed, but to be the author of the book himself. And Uie 
name of this person was Liggins! 

While the 'Scenes of Clerical Life' were yet appearing in 
Mackwood's Magazine the inhabitants of Nuneaton and its 
neighborhood were considerably perplexed and excited to find 
well-known places and persons touched off to the life. In 
Ainos Barton they recognized the incumbent of Coton Church 
in Mr. Pilgrim a medical ma" familiar to every child in the 
town, and indeed in every one of the characters an equally 
unmistakable portrait. Clearly no one but a fellow-townsman 
could have hit off these wonderful likenesses. Literary talent 
not being too abundant, their choice of an author was limited 
The only man who by any stretch of imagination seemed to 
have the making of a man of letters in him was this abo-e- 
mentioned Liggins. To have studied at Cambridge, gallantly 
run through a fortune, and be in very needy circumstances 
were exactly the qualifications to be expected in a man of 



ADAM BEDE. 

XCV 

paper. At first the reputed IZT'^'^ '" "^ ^«'« °^ Man 
peachment, but on the an™l .^'""^y ^^"'^^ tl»e im- 

cun.bed to^e terpUtlr^^rftLltT '"'"'' '" "- 
a successful author, and to have a ...k ■ . ''""'*' I*'''«8 " 
enthusiastic Udy^frers rr^.n 7''°" "^'o" * «>' bj 
eye8hewasasadlyu^rea'itSl^*"°''-'°'^°«'°«°. '" '''"ose 
J~»l clergyman even wp'oteto ^"7/'" "f ;™"'"'''''- ^ 
be the real surname of " Geor^ Eliot^TThS '''««'"* *° 
course, denying the statement anH iwi '*"*"■ '^'■°'«. "f 

produce some specimen hkwl'"*'."* *''" P"'*'"^" '" 
Bede.' But the confident 'f ^L"^* '" "*" ^'^'« "^ '^^am 
hero Liggins was not to Tso ea^w fhT'°" .P"""" '" '^'" 
ministers from Coveutrv Jl! ^ *''*°- T'^" dissentine 
upon the "great auIhoPaXr; '° ^f ""orough to calf 
' Adam Bede.' LigS e.lf thl° 'i^" """^ •^''^ '^ri'" 
mitting that he didf but wlen th" "^T^'T' '"^"''^^y ^d- 
"Liggins, tell us, dil you write <aL p'^ ^'^ P°'°* "ank, 
I did n't, the deril ^dr'^^dthaf w ^?''\^" *■" ^^-l' "« 
of him. Another cWym^w^Ln^ , ' **"'^ 'i'"^'^ ««' °"' 
eveor one that he was SvJ^ ?? '' '"'P*'"^' ^^u^i^g 
«,he had seen thrMrof uC bI^^?'- •^,'"S *!>« author! 
this day there lives in the Isle of^ "'■'"' ^''°<'»- To 

gentleman who has ne4r lost l^^-f -"'^ ^'""*"" "^^ 
George Eliot is mentioled, ^av /rhi^: ^'T'!, "■"'' "'"«'' 
tliat there is more in the nlm« f). ^" ^^^' '"Plying 

superficial observer. But a heavv^-^l*'' *^* '^^ "^ tbf 
pseudcvauthor at last, for when his fal"*"'\'*''" *« P°°' 
were fuUy manifest he felT Tnto 1 ''1'""''' *" *»^°'' 

ending his days in the woAhous^. "'**' "*«'*"* ''"'* P"^^^^. 

Geor^: SS SZraKnd "'^"^^ l'^ ''-'-- "^ 
the publication of 'ThTMOl ™ .h°T' ''''''='' °'='="™d °u 
that, Mr. Blackwood whf had , on.' °!!- ■ ^^°''^^ ^f°^« 
tnowtheauthorof the ^Scenes J n^ cntert^ned the wish to 
Bede,' was invited by Lewes t/ ^''^'^- '^^ °^ '^'^ 

was present at the dinger <-?w° k. "^ *' '^*- ^^ ""e 
and Mr. BlackwS S i^^"?,,^^^^^^ /r. ^-e=. Marian, 
"^BOii. xie dinner was an extremely 



m 



wri 



OEOKOG EUOT. 



iBhed publisher shook hands with his contributor. 



1 



CHAPTEK IX, 

THX MILL ON THE PLOSS. 

He recognized incidents, touches, a savinir here or rt.!f' 
3»st the things that no one outside his o7n home Im b^Ly' 
chance have come upon. But George Eliot's brother kept 

t™lt!fw^ "'"'^'^ ^'^^ "''^^ Ws own breast He 
trembled lest any one else should discover the aeoT^LJ^l 
the outoryof neighbors who might not !Sways feel t^t^h! 
author had represented them in .^lors sntZlytt^n^ 
men'TheMUl on the Floss' appeared, however the veil 
was lifted, and people heard that George Eliot h^once Cn 
a Miss Marian Evans, whc came from the neighboTh^of 
Nuneaton in Warwickshire. To her brother IsalcTne th?s 
was no news as he had detected his sister in trfim of the 
'Scenes.' The child-life of Tom and Maggie TuUiv" wL in 

hope to describe the early history of George Eliot as s^e hlr' 
self has done in 'The Mill on the Floss' How many fov. 

calltoL h'r '^'^PPf" "«!-" day^ --t hive ^L'Te 
called to her brother -those days when little Mary Ann had 
sat poring over Daniel Defoe's 'History of thrD^ril' f 
sought refuge in the attic at Griff HouseTaSL ^qS wi^ 



m 



m^ 



THK MILL ON THE FLOSS. 



lovii 



Snth?wJ^?::^„^?««'«\'r'ite retreat on a wet day, 
ill-humor,, and Xd^'„^^ 2 ' •"«" »'«' ^™'t,d out all hf 

worm^ate; shelvl^^^a^d Z^'^' "[r"?''" ^~" "•'' »»>« 
*eb.i andhereshek^nta VfS^h ., u' {'""°<»»<'d W'^- Job- 
h.rmi.fortunea/ ffiL ttetrnt'1 "'',•' P'">''»""1 ' -all 
which once .tared wfi TrJundl^t oft" 'T ^f^^" ''°»' 
of cheeks, but wa. no^ZtiXZ^A^V^^ '^' "^'^''' 
vicarious suffering. Three nal.T- • ^ * '""^ career of 
memorated as m^t criseTin ^1.^^°."'*° """ *««"* «"""- 
•truggle, that luxu^ o" ven^e^^'^h .""«J'«"» "^ «arthly 
her by the picture of Jae?dfZ^ havng been suggested to 
Again, at some eelds^d.stlncrf ^ Sisera in the old Bible." 
1^ been a « Bound P^V'c^X/^vn^?^^ ^°°"' '^«" 
feet round, framed in ^th w^ltts Ld ^f' l''^-""^"' P«'- 
water was only to be seen whir ^' "®'^"' «° '•>«' 'he 

Thi8wasafavoritere!ortofT.» ^^"x/°' '''°''' *" *!"' brink, 
and his sister when thev w/nH ">"'* *^"^ *°°' "^ '^'«' °f T°m 
thought it probabTeSCsm'Ssh'f Y^ "" "^^«'« 
hook and large ones to Tom's " The « p ^ ^°°"' *" ^" 
where Maggie loved to walk in Tnn '^\^0P»," too, 
were in their 8lorv»ar^ It m June, when the "dog-roses 
of her shiftingTnTer We w«7n th'e "'' *''™"*' """"^ '"-- 
time a l.Wed\aunVo7Cuto™L\rst"""''"' "•'■'' °°« 
the^"^£Trren"X~^ ^" ^^^ -"on 
George Eliot's earTy home thf f "^ "" ''°°°*'"«<1 "i'l' 
mainly laid in Lin olnsMre' St T""^ -^l *'*' "o^"' « 
™ofs and broad warehous""gables"T'thf "^ ''•'■«'"«"^ 
GainsborougK The Flo«f. ,;!,,' .'*'"« ancient town of 
ia each caaf the spr ngSe r^sh'fnl uoTh "'^ *'* ^"''*' ^-^ 
nfic wave and flooding tKdi? V "^" ""'' '^ t«r- 
the Eagre, a name nof a lit^^l^°'.'°J^*' ™"''<^. i= known as 

•tKu onTe F OSS' /a tit e S*"': "/.*''* *'''"8 itself, 
the suggestion of Mr Blickwoid t '^ ^ ''^ *^'' """'°' »' 
Maggie') is the most Z^iZ{^f V^^'''""'^ *" 'Sister 
The great Floss, Cying w °i ^'°'«'' E"°*'« ""-els. 
sea, gives a unit^ ofTte own 1 Z»"'" P^'""« to the 
tl^e roar . watet. the^X^^gtator^J^^^tZ-pLj 



xoviii 



OEOHOK EUOT. 



h', 






on it. banL The ohni^ VS"*"* '"""J' «'°"P ""rtuwd 
which h-veVttthr; JS '*ti^' ""\"'« '"d'"-' o' 

fate, the FIosb .eems to riae in .Sthy and1ub»?r 'ff*'" 
in m mighty waters to unite them C C^ ."^n „ *" k''""" 

death h, d,;:r/;ria^sreTn,sroSS rz' 

ims may be accounted for bv thn ta„i- ti. \ ""'" °* ■»•'«>• 
novelist became acquainJr^L'Setddldirof' *'" 
relative who had accidentally fall«. into ^^ *'"'" 

dent which sunk deeply into h^erliVtll ^iT" '' '^ '""- 

*ate plays a very conspicuous uart in thi. 1. ■ 
George Eliot's novels. But it is n'^th Flt^^rtie T^"' 
It 18 not a power that affects human exkten™ / ^l^^'' 
it rather lies at the rnnf «f -t ««8tenoe from without : 

This action of eha^aoternr"'"' 1""° *" '"™88>'' <>* '«« 
on character is areterrL""°""*°°f *""* °^ circumstance 
We conVtontly see J^t. ""^ «»<'/ with George Eliot. 

moulding the lives of Ihr J"""""'*"."'""' ""^'^^'"8 »-d 
hardly, if ever therefL^ u'° her stories. She has 

instead c* vLldint m if '"^ " ^^'° °' ''''"''°«' f" t^es^ 

highest kind S Tit^"^-"""^- S*" "*"""» "f'" the 

l~CLsK°' ''• --^ --- S'S 



m^ m- 



THE MILL ON THE FL0S8. ^ 

to another, i. .hS^™'^ .£ "L !l""'^ 'T '""' «'"'»• 
port. In Maggie', caae thU e^ 1 TpZ"," '\^ P"' ""t of 
of her nature; from the acuZ'^'Tl "'.» ^«'J' ^"Inesg 
the many^idednew of life attrl^L k . 'magmation which 
.ite air^ctions. Tom, on tie olr^ T '" "'^ """" °PP<> 
practical understanding entillv „ ^'"'' "'"^ >>« "arW 
in hand, swerve, neithfi to ^ ZX^t' "^ ''"' ""«"«'- 
Mid to resemble a horse with blink' -^ "T'"'*' ^^ ""y 1« 
the road straight ahead. Magg" w^th 'J? .""" ^ ■"""• ""'^ 
nesses and startling inconsisffn^i.T • II ''^ P*'P*"« ^^^ak. 
George Eliot's women. In fi^"!;^!' " '5" """'t adorable of 
onild more delicious than the < mu' ""1 1!'"'"° *>>««' " "o 
heart and dreamy wa^ her r«l T^ *'''' ''«' Joking 

her fine .nscepti^iUt^'i, fitt JeTo/? *"' ""'» ™«-'' 
her singularly fresh and X Sre Th ""P"' " '" " '°«» 
vades every phase of her life ^„ h!", ^\!!^o 'harm per- 
w far modify WordsworthW J °"* "" "'''". if I Tav 

".other of the womw ""'"' ""^'"8, is eminently the 

aoe^^'a ETnrLiS'sr '^^^^'^'-^ - «^« 

at the sordid narrowness of W If; ffrr"°' ''^'P ™'*"'"8 
tor a wider field wherein to dev^T.^}. '•P?'"""*'^^^ ""'^ing 
this State of yearning and wild unLf">, ""^^ ^^"^*'«- ^^ 
of Thomas 4 Kempfs formTa cr-.i!^ \"'^"'^'''''*1 '«ading 
about a spiritual TwakenTng in which Ph '^ '^ ''""^'"^ 
hrst time, becomes a living truth Tnh '^''""lanity, for tha 
Maggie now throws all the ardor n A ' ^'"''""' "" '^' '»- 
cation and "elf^onquest. She seeks hrv*^"' '°'° ™-»»- 
in abnegation of all personal h!,? /• '''»''«'t satisfaction 
others. In her youn^ ascet Im l""' ,-° """'^ "^^^ot'on *» 
which she is ignoranf stifln"! .'^''T'^''^' » '^"'W of 
cent that, eemfoppold'rhlrerfa'ir'^^' ''"''^^' "- 

than wSSslTmaC 't^ ^^J^^^ ^^ ^^t'-^ 

touched instrument to theCtv^/.K"' '^"'^ "ke a finely 

hough she doubts whether th«™ ^' """'^ ^«»""J h«^ and 

« the indulgence of t^;"^';^,":^ -' -- be a sinfulness 

J-ym..„t, yet the summer flowers 



m 



O OEOHOE EUOT. 

and the summer sunshine put her scruples to flight. And 
then, when, through the intervention of Philip Wakem, the 
enchantments of romance and poetry are* brought within her 
reach, the glory of the world again lays hold of her imagina- 
tion, and a fresh conflict is begun in her soul. Thus she drifts 
from one state into another most opposed to it, and to an out- 
side observer, such as Tom, her abrupt transitions are a sign 
that she is utterly wanting in moral stamina. 

Not only Tom, but many eminent critics, who have descanted 
with fond partiality on Maggie's early life, deem to be shocked 
by that pit of her story in which she allowj herself to fall 
passionately in love with such an ordinary specimen of man- 
hood as Stephen Guest. The author has even been accused 
of violating the truth of Nature, inasmuch as such a high- 
minded woman as Maggie could never have inclined to so 
vulgar, so commonplace a man as Her lover. Others, while 
not questioning the truth of the character, find fault with the 
poor heroine herself, whom they pronounce an ineffective 
nature revealing its innate unsoundness by the crowning error 
of an abject passion for so poor a creature as the dandy of 
St. Oggs. This contention only proves the singular vitality 
of the character itself, and nothing is more psychologically 
true in George Eliot's studies of character than this love of 
the high-souled heioine for a man who has no corresponding 
fineness of fibre in his nature, his attraction lying entirely 
in the magnetism of mutual passion. This vitality places 
Maggie TuUiver by the side of the Juliets, the Mignons, the 
Consuelos, the Becky Sharps, and other airy inheritors of 
immortality. It is curious that Mr. Swinburne, in view of 
such a character as this, or, indeed, bearing in mind a Silas 
Mamer, a Dolly Winthrop, a Tito, and other intrinsically 
living reproductions of human nature, should describe George 
Eliot's as intellectually constructed characters in contrast 
to Charlotte Bronte's creations, the former, according to him, 
being the result of intellect, the latter of genius. If ever 
character came simply dropped out of the mould of Nature it 
is that of Maggie. His assumption, that 'The Mill on the 
Floss ' can in any sense have been suggested by, or partially 
baaed upon, Mrs. Gaskell's story of 'The Moorland Cottage,' 



- 't\vsf. 



THE MILL ON THE 1X088. oi 

»eems eqniUjr baseless. There is certainly the identity of 
name m the heroines, and some resembUnoe of s tuS Z 
regards portions of the story, but both the name and th^ 
situation are sufficiently common not to excite astonishment 
at such a coinc deuce. Had George Eliot realltro^ of 
this tale -a tale feebly executed at the best-Iehe Z^nld 
obriouBly have altered the name so as not to make her olw 
taon too patent to the world. As it is, she was not a I^ 
astonished and even indignant, on accik^ntalT s": ngTi 
opinion stated m some review, and positivel/ deZd eve 
having seen the story in question. 
Indeed, when one knows how this story grew out of her 

Z^'^P/r"""' ''"^ ■** «•■""«' portion" eTpeTiiSS ^e a 
record of her own and her brother's childhood-how even 
Mrs. Glegg ar,l Mrs. Pullet were only too faithfully done 
from the aunts of real life, one need not go far afield to seek 

he'mthtr- ""'V '"?""'' »«"-»y ^"^= oneTol, wM h 
whi^hf " "' ^'' ^"'*'y '"*"'" '^y Confessions,' iito 
which he ^urs an intimate part of his life under a th n d^ 
guise of fiction, a book invariably exciting a nuLue ki^d 
of interest m the reader be he conscious or^not of the pres 
ence of this autobiographical element Fielding's •AmeH^ 
Thackeray's .Pendennis,' Dickens's -David CoSeld ' ChL^ 
ktte Bronte's ' ViUette,' are cases in point. ' TeSon the" 

Siot Werw'"?''^^"*'"™- MaggieTulliver^GeoS 
Ehot heraelf but only one side, one portion, one phase of 

George Eliot's many-sided, vastly complex nature^ It is 

George Eliot's inner life in childhood and youth as it appeared 

to her own consciousness. We recognize in i? her T.„? i 

"?& '^^H .f "«^°^ ^ectionateneTsr her amb t on t 
outlook beyond the present, her religious and moral preocc„ 
pations; even her genius is not so much omitted as left Tn 
an undeveloped, rudimentary state. While hermare-b^ Lve 
Stones, her thirst for knowledge, her spiritual wrrtHn™ and 
the passionate response of her soul to high thinkin/lw! 
music and the beautiful in all its forms, show thL t£ mat 
mg of genius was there in germ. Much in the same manner 
G»the was fond of partitioning his nature, and of S 
only the weaker side to his fictitious representatives. ^S,„* 






«tt 



OEOBOE ELIOT. 



t/'i 



Z ?^« L./ ] K°^.*"°""*''""' °* P"^" ''^°^ he only 
got the better of by his indomitable wUl, he usually endowed 

ftese characters with his more impulsive, pliant self, a^ Z^ 

fested m Werther, in Tasso, in Edward of the 'ElecMye 

Affinities^ In this sense also Maggie TuUiver resemblls 

have t f ^ f^ '' ^"l P"'^'"'''^ ««"> "^""^ ■» «hTmS^ 
have been had there not been counterbalancing tendencies of 
unusual force sufficient to hold in check all efratic impulses 
contrary to the main direction of her life impulses 

While tempted to dwell largely on Maggie Tulliver the 
central figure of 'The Mill on the Floss,' it wouTdTveS 
unfair to slur over the other admirably drawn oharacterlTf 
this novel. Her brother Tom, alread/repeatedly alluded to 
18 m every sense the counterpart of "Sister MagL "Hard 
and narrow-minded he was from a boy, « partUularly cleir 
and positive on one point, namely, that he would punish every- 
body who deserved it: why, he wouldn't have minded beiig 
punished himself, if he deserved it; but, then, he never rf^ 

«tZ"'i -.-T^^' "'"i^"" '^' key-note of a character who^ 
stern inflexibility, combined with much practical insight and 
dogged persistence of effort, is at the same time dignified by 
a high, If somewhat narrow, sense of famUy honor. Conven- 
tional respectability, in fact, is Tom Tulliver's religion He 
IS not in any sense bad, or mean, or sordid j he is only so cir- 
cumscribed in his perspective faculties that he has no stand- 
ard by which to measure thoughts or feelings that transcend 
Jiis own very limited conception of life. 

Both by his good and his bad qualities, by his excellences 
and his negations, Tom Tulliver proves himself what he is — 
a genuine sprig of the Dodsou family, a chip of the old block I 
And the Dodson sisters are, in their way, among the most 
amazingly living portraitures that George Eliot ever achieved 
Keahsm in art can go no further in this direction. These 
w-omen, if present in the flesh, would not be so distinctively 
vivid as when behei: through the transfixing medium of 
George Ehot;s genius. For here we have the personages, with 
all their quamtnesses, their eccentricities, their odd, old-fash- 
loned twists and ways -only observed by fragments in actiial 
life - successfully brought to a focus for the delight and amuse- 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS. ^ 

ment of generations of readers. Them i» «„«,- 

nothing exaggerated, in tl^esrhuiopTus C^s"^^ '"'' 
effect is not produced as is nfk.„^ ngures. The comio 

of Dickens, V so- ^^"^^i^^ Zl^Vrrf"'. 
speech, more in the spirit of oari^t^re T^f .'""'' °* 
is by a strict adherence to the j^t mean of n J- "T""'^' " 
scientious care not to overstep^h r protebilitls [L^ " "°°- 
these matchless types of English p^^SifeA^d T 

of all propoSo^L'^^^ m^^^e "Kw^ ''Z T 
dictatorial ways, her small eco^oS hef^^lt^t l^*' 

behtron isr^ions.-MrJStih: :irr/ -^r 

to-do yeoman-farmer ImnTL ■' ^''^^^^^ °^ the well- 

a single remark from iT^f P° ^'. .^""'^ "°' "«6' with 
Butby-andby itapla^d St"" ^^^'"^ *° ""<="« ''^^'f- 
purpose, for he iS hfm ^If « ! '^ ''""''^ *"»^" *•>« 



f;- !H 



GEOBOE ELIOT. 



?'■ 



father died, and then when I'd wanted a home, I should ha' 
gone elsewhere — as the choice was offered me.' 

" Mi. Glegg paused from his porridge and looked up, not - 
with any new amazement, but simply with that quiet, habitual 
wonder with which we regard constant mysteries. 

" ' Why, Mrs. G., what have I done now ? ' 

" ' Done now, Mr. Glegg ? done now ? , . . I 'm sorry for 
you.' 

" Kot seeing his way to any pertinent answer, Mr. Glegg 
reverted to his porridge. 

" ' There 's husbands in the world,' continued Mrs. Glegg, 
after a pause, ' as 'nd have known how to do something differ- 
ent to siding with everybody else against their own wives. 
Perhaps I 'm wrong, and you can teach me better. But I 've 
allays heard as it 's the husband's place to stand by the wife, 
instead of rejoicing and triumphing when folks insult her.' 

" ' Now what call have you to say that ? ' said Mr. Glegg, 
rather warmly, for, though a kind man, he was not as meek as 
Moses. ' When did I rejoice or triumph over you ? ' 

" ' There 's ways o' doing things worse than speaking oui 
plain, Mr. Glegg. I 'd sooner you 'd tell me to my face as 
you make light of me, than try to make as everybody 's in the 
right but me, and come to your breakfast in the morning, as 
I 've hardly slept an hour this night, and sulk at me as if I 
was the dirt under your feet.' 

'"Sulk at you?' said Mr. Glegg, in a tone of angry face- 
tiousness. ' You 're like a tipsy man as thinks everybody 's 
had too much but himself.' 

" ' Don't lower yourself with using coarse language to me, 
Mr. Glegg! It makes you look very small, though you can't 
see yourself,' said Mrs. Glegg, in a tone of energetic com- 
passion. 'A man in your place should set an example, and 
talk more sensible.' " 

After a good deal of sparring in the same tone, Mr. Glegg 
at last bursts forth : " ' Did ever anybody hear the like i' this 
parish? A woman with everything provided for her, and 
allowed to keep her o' n money the same as if it was settled on 
her, and with a gig new stuffed and lined at no end o' expense, 
and provided for when I die beyond anything she could ex- 



THE MOL OH THE FLOSS. OT 

tapped the table with both his hands ) ^ •""■' '"'^ 

and folding it in an eioited manner ^^/s^tT/vf ^"J'^f^"''' 
being provided for beyond what I could « /t\, ° "*? 
tell you as I 'd a rieht to «™^f „ ^''P*"*' ^ "^8 l«a™ to 

cried shame on by the cou^t^ fi ^' " ! ''"" " y°» '« °°t 
it What I oan-tU: Z^Zoi'^ LZ ''"^''''''' "' "■*■ ^o' 

for dinner. I shall 3e grue" » ^' °"^*' '''^* y°" """^ 
Equally well drawn in their wav tJinn»>, l^^ 

Ch^^ ""^ ^""^ '■ I'J'iliP Wakem, whose physio7mall 

genero^, father of Maggie, and his sister Mrs \los! whosi 

foUto r/n r' "^^f ^-o^^of appearances form a Writing 
foil to the Dodson sisters. Indeed, 'The Mill on the mr,»»^ 

an rogues enoo-wiout lookin' i> books for 'em.» 
The distinguishing feature of this novel, however lies nnf 



OTi 



OEOBOE ELIOT. 



i^ 



if 



CHAPTEE X. 

SILAS MAKNBR. 

'The Mill on the Floss,' which appeared in 1860, fully 
established George EMot's popularity with the public. In the 
same year she published anonymously, in Blaekwoo^t Maga- 
zine, a short story called 'The Lifted Veil.' This tale is 
curious as differing considerably from her general style, hav- 
ing a certain mystical turn, which perhaps recommended it 
more especially to the admiration of Bulwer Lytton; but, 
indeed, it attracted general attention. In the meanwhile the 
relations between author and publisher became more and more 
friendly; the latter's critical acumen and sound judgment 
being highly esteemed by beorge Eliot. " He judged well of 
writing," she remarked, "because he had learned to judge well 
of men and things, not merely through quickness of observa- 
tion and insight, but with the illumination of a heart in the 
right place." 

This was the most productive period of George Eliot's life. 
In three successive years she published 'Adam Bede,' 'The 
Mill on the Floss,' and ' Silas Mamer,' the last story appearing 
in lh61. When the amount of thought, observation, and wis- 
dom concentrated in these novels is taken into consideration, 
it must be admitted that her mental energ ■: was truly aston- 
ishing. But it was the accumulated experience of her whole 
past, the first abundant math borne by the spring-tide of life 
which was garnered up in these three remarkable works. 
Afterwards, when ahe came to write her next book, ' Bomola,' 
she turned to entirely fresh fields of inspiration; indeed, 
already at this date her mind was occupied with the idea of an 
Italian novel of the time of Savonarola. 

In the meanwhile she produced her most finished work. She 
wrote ' Silas Mamer, the Weaver of Eaveloe.' I call ' Silas 
Mamer' her most finished work, not only because of the sym- 
metry with which each part is adjusted in relation to the 
whole, nor because of the absence of those partly satirical, 
partly moral reflections with which George Eliot usually ao- 



SILAS MARKER. 



erU 



th^Z , '''r^=*">-i°* >>« "tories, but chiefly on «»ount of 
the simple pathos of the oeutral motive into whiohaU the 
different incidents and characters naturally converw How 

stSdTnfh "'^Tl^ '""" '^'"'" "•" -'" oTr is^on! 
struoted, and how matchless the resultl 

.mall'^'-"* ''"•' *^* '*'^ °^ " ^"-"We weaver belonging to a 
small dissenting community which assembled in Lantern 

of I k'^r'T '" '"f ^^ »'^«*^ °f '^ manufacturing town 
all tM^l h ""' '^^ " ^*'^' *"«'"^' ^"1 '^0 loo^ of !ru°r"n 
biwSn " °K '^'"°'- ^°*^'"8 l""' ">« story of alone 
bewildered man shut out from his kind, concentrlting every 

^nH ft '^T"" T °°' - *■•« ''"-«Bg™3sing passion ffrlld 
toln r. * '",'^'^'" disappearance of%he hoXTm its ac^us-" 
tomed hiding-place, and in its stead the startling ap^aS of 
a golden-haired little child, found one snow^wS Zht 

ttsr^iirofSi't^^e^^^^^^^^ 

Sir r;itrhV?:uoren''""«^"« ^'» ^"*° ^^'"- 

and the hand may be a little child's " naoKward, 

is^p^drL°ir5ecVof^/;s^^^^^ 
f?^^;:he:^fiir?^^^^^^^ 

of them all, has been translated into Fren 'h, DutT L'd'^r 

m r-remotrp:Hsh wir'"T'^ '-'' p-*- "fti w; 

m a remote l-olish village, and not only of peasant lifn h„t J 
the manners and habits of the landed proprfet^ thl T«" f^ 
arhsan, and the yeoman, in a communit7wCe lit? h': 
have nndergoue but little modification sLe the Sm e Ig " 



eviii 



OEOROE ELIOT. 



(( 



li'i 



These picture*, though not elaborated with anything like the 
nunute care of George Eliot's descriptions of English country 
me, yet from their extreme simplicity produce a most power- 
lul impression on the reader. 

The story, in brief, is that of Jermola, the body servant of 
a Polish nobleman in Volhynia, whom he has served with rare 
devotion dunng the greater part of his life. Left almost a bee- 
gar at his master's death, without a single human tie. all he can 
get tor years of faithful service is a tumble^iowu, forsaken old 
inn, where he manages to keep body and soul t ,gether in a 
dismantled room that but partly shelters him from the inclem- 
ency of the weather. Hopeless, aimless, loveless, he grows 
old before his time, and the passing of the days affecto him 
hardly more than it does a stone. But one evening, as he is 
sitting in front of a scanty fire repeating the Lord's Prayer 
the cry as of a little ehUd startles him from his devotion. Go-' 
lug to look what can be the meaning of such unusual sounds he 
soon discovers an infant in linen swaddling-clothes wailing 
under an old oak-tree. He takes the foundling home, and 
from that moment a new life enters the old man's breast He 
M rejuvenated by twenty years. He i: kept in a constant 
flutter of hope, fear, and activity. A kind-hearted woman, 
called the Kozaozicha, tenders him her services, but he is so 
jealous of any one but himself doing aught for the child, that 
he checks her advances, and by hook or by crook obtains a 
goat from an extortionate Jew, by the help of which he rears 
the boy satisfactorily. Then, wishing to make a livelihood 
for the child's sake, he inclines at first to the craft of the 
weaver, but finally turns potter in his old age. Love sharpen- 
ing his wits, he plieg quite a thriving trade in time, and the 
beautiful boy brings him into more friendly relations with his 
neighbors. But o) 9 day, when Eadionek, who has learned 
Jermola's trade, is about twelve years old, the real parents 
appear and claim him as their own. They had never dared to 
acknowledge their marriage till the father, who had threat- 
ened to ( sinherit his son in such an event, had departed this 
life. Now, having nothing more to fear, they want to have 
their child back, and to bring him up as befits their station in 
life. Jermola suffers a deadly anguish at this separation; 



SILAS MARNER. ^^ 

P^nt. in.i.tf„« on'l'r e^.wT.hJ'^R^^^^^ ««',""' 
carried off to their house in tn.n ♦ T!'. '°''°'' " »' '"' 
man, being only S^Kly aHcweH . 'T"'' """^ " K""""- 
to time. The bov Dine« 111 ,**^ '^ •^*"»°'> f«>» «""e 
enoe of his fo«te^fa?r, 'in ,!%'' ^°' *''*' ''"'" ^'"""ia^ P'es- 
after som" ^a™ oS" hi /'*'' '"''^°°' "''' """* "*""'' 
Jermola's hu^ who hrs^^'e'^uX^r '"' '""'^^"'^ '" 
secretly near the child he s afrTw Z ^^'^ '° °^^^^ ^ ^ 
entreaties of Badion k.td thf t^'orh'!^ "" ''\V''^°'" 
tenanee, induce the old man T, flfL • 5 .u ""^ ""^'y «°"n- 
where the two may esoaTunil ^ ' ?""«^'' ^o^^'^' 
part of the oount^tol^e uTth;i ,/"^^ """"^ •^''"»»t 
more But the harSshlp^and fetSes of t? '""* "'^ °'""' 
much for the boy's enfeebled h.T>. ^ ' ^°"™*y ^'^ *°o 
within sight of hlan dwellings h^ *'"* ^""^ "" """y """"^ 
which cute his young Me swT "t""""* ^"^ » f"^" 
with anguish Zll IZlt^ *v °« -^"""l* ne^'y crazy 

dren mocked by"X thf-CriXi:' "»T *'''' ''^"- 
seemed to consist of nothing but tofs *°' '^'=*"''' '"' 

Such is the bare outline of a «t^L „v. 
the redemption of a hun^n soul tZ \T ""*'" '^"^ ""»* °f 
by means of a little cMd Tsunr .°'''' ^f"^^'"^ isolation, 
' Silas Mamer.' ^her noid«n^»^ 'u°''^'''y '•>« '^'"e « in 
woman who initiates JermSlTnto th^ " f""' °' '""^ ^'^''^ 
agement, and the disclos^ of f h„ r^''*"'^' of baby man- 
of years, wanting to wTt^li lud r^"'" ''"^^ <» '»?«« 
passages in the Englisr^r Bat l" "f' '"«^''' ?"«»«" 
are, after all, natural enoTeh ,„f .^'"""Jof «3 of this kind 

human feeling and actionTs'ltrd Slat'"' *',? """^^ "' 

rer^f^^rirrtrreff-'^^^^^^ 

-ot^ne^er saw, and Jossi^?,-- e^ ll'Sot^.^ 
-vid and .ried ^r^^^^l::^^ ^^^S^ 



r 



l'-: 



"■ OEOKOE ELIOT. 

.!nK 1 •. J league-long expanse of ancient forests whose 
sombre solitudes encompass with a mysterious awe the HMU 

prer^'"ti""«' f. "■""• «"' '''•"• foreirsto;' u ! 
?tT h . ?"l" '" "»«'" P"""™' '»><> latter far excels 

t m he masterly handling of character and dialogue, in the 

SSL^Cmof "' '•"'"«'"' "■^' ''-- •"' ^- '^^P-'- 

Geor^'Fl/^'-'T"'' ^" """^ ^°""'' ^°' "'"""e realism. 

wheelwr^ht: h« .'"'r'''^r • ?" ^""«"' •"" ''"'"he", htr 
HI! • I ', !f **''°"' •'*^* '""^ »»■"« startling vitality the 

unZrrr^^*?'',^"!:'' °^ '^"^' ">« "««"« distinct ve yet 
unforced individuality, free from either exaggeration or oari 
cature. How delicious is t^ie description oT^he p^ " ^« 

advocate for compromising whatever differences of oninion 

ofruor"'"*r?" r*""""' ■" *"•"«' "'^' "^''- *" - ^ 

" Yon v! »v7>. u^' ^' '''8°'»e"te by his favorite phrase - 
•You re both right and you're both wrong, as I say » How 

^wil L *i ^ '^^ * ''°'"°° ''"'"^'^•■> '° which one and all puff 
away at their pipes, staring at the fire "as if a bet were 

begin at last, how noh is the flavor of that talk, given with 
an unerring precision that forthwith makes ^ f^uai^^ 
with the crass ignorance and shrewdness, the moth^wit imd 
wpomitaon. so oddly jumbled together in the vilC^rmi^d 

™ ^f T P*""'' "'"''' ^'- ^"^"y' i" speaking of 

a person from another county which apparent y co^d not be 

breed 0' sher'"*.: ^""° *'". oountry.'^Che brought a fi^ 
breed sheep with him, so there must be pastures there and 
everyth, „,^onable» Yet the same ^ can put down 

"S/.nr^""? ?™"^ ""^"P^y' "« '*■«■> he ^remarks" 
There s allays two 'pinions; there's the 'pinion a man has 

Therr>:«?'* ^'''' *' 'P'"°" """^^ ^^^^ have Th?^ 



StLAS MAKNER. 



est 



I>oIly Winthrop, the wife of fh- • n 
make, one of the oomZV "t^^' .f"^ wheelwright who 
•dmirable. She i, not ^t JL » ^''^<' i» no lew 
type of human nature, but Lr^^i.S.r*"'!!" P*'*"" or 
>• full of a freahnesa and unwl^ !h ''^'"''"'^"''■''y. a-d 
oonoluaions at deBanoe A notebtl"!" '""<!'' '<"• '"^gone 
appetite for work, ,o that, ria^^a hT'"''w'"' ' '»•"""«'" 
b.t o' time to apa;, aoat dly" for w\ '^* '""' '^^ ''" "« 
fthe moming'Zclook awmit .7 .\T «'" "P beW^e. 
i". time to go abouTth? v^t^'^v„f '^T^^'^' -^ore 
ergy .he ia not ahrewiah, but aSm J^v/"'' "" *''" «■" 
requeat in aick-rooma or whe™v«^K* * ''°""'"' '° """h 
Kood-looking. too, and of aToZ^l? " ''°""*- ^he ia 
tiently tolerant ot her huaband". ? '""P"'' ^"'"^ P*" 
'men would be ao,' ^d^e^„Vth« '; °°°"''' <f t^"' 
light of animala whom it pS hL '"?" "' ' '" 'I'" 
some like bull, or turkey^,^^. » "'"'''*" *° »»'«' '"uble- 

anot^:rTtr£^mt;:e'/tll«t' '"" '"' ^« '^^^^ 
the eountry, givea a vi "d Lrof~l'r,r;''" ^"^ °' 
her own dim, aemi-pagan but tW,»^^ "^ ^'^*' " '«" «» 
feelinga, prompting hTalwayat^aZJ^ reverential religioua 
plural, aa when ahf aaya to Kr-^ °^ the Divinity in the 
the right quarter, and^^^^ ™,;p to Thl™''''' '" """'^ '" 
give ouraelvea up to at the laaf l?,-f ^"5 "' "« """'t all 
IS n't to be believed aa Them « a™ «.^ *' ",'^°"" °" P*^ it 
we are, and come arorto'The^ »*"'•' "" "" ^ ''°««' "»' 

Pn.XX°:k!S:Gio%?^^,r r --^ i^-cters, or, more 
to the highest order, tWmewShr" '" f" "'^' ^'""^^ 
on the eaaential elements of ^..'P""""- ^' " ^a^ed 
pathetic inoongruitiea of whieH'tw" °"*r' ''^^''' °° '"^^ 
n.an, ia made up, instead of finHi .u^""°'^'**'"'« "^ dust," 

a<»identalorextornaTclrouLtan °* '^1^"^^ '» ">« P-'elV 
such humorists aa luS anlT., '^^' "" '^ *''« <^« ^'th 
find a good subject for thercoL^""^'"'- '^^''^ ^»*'«' '"igl't 
Milo's broken ioae, which at"hr° '" "^'"^ ^^ ^«»"« "^ 
stuck on the wrong ardeupwarrT"l.""''^° ^'^ ''8*« 
nary specUtor into fita of faughtr~ Buf ^.* '° '^"'^ '^^ "'-^i- 
laugnoer. But the genuine humor- 



exU 



OKOROB EUOT. 




vJ'i: 



iit Net wmething in thtt fMtuia lUeW, m nttm iluMd It 

oThro;?ji"u7;:': ' ""■"" ^'"' -' "■• «••"•- -"«• 

T^ ««ch thtt high .poclyptic mouM 

Which •howi in blrdM,,, vl.w i p,rf«.t worM, 

Or (Dttr wirmly into ochtr Joyi 

ThM tho« «l f,„|ty, Bruggling hamu kiiul. 

1 n»t itniii upon my loal'i too feeble wiac 

Endi in ignoble flonndering : 1 f«ll 

Into ihort-iighted pity for the men 

Who, living in thoM, p,rf«:t ftitnre timet. 

Will not know h»lf the Ueu imperfect thlnn 

ThfZ'? .7 ""''""'' ««" - will ««." Uow 
iBe »ne old incongrultlee that ralie 
Mj friendl, Iwgh; th. innocent concelu 
Th« Ilk. . ii«dle« ijtglu, or bl«k petch 
Gir, tho« who w„r them h«ml,«i ..Wini«( 
The tw,.t. „d cr«k. in our poor e«thenw«. 
Th»t touch me to more coonciou. feUowehlp 
P »m not mjrielf the Sneet P«ri«n) 
With my coevals." 

dencies^Xle :S'V*i ri/Sl^ ^ttf T '" '«'- 
intellect. Humor drawn i^Z,l .\^}° **« ratiocinative 

characteristics? wit TeTzes on n'/?"° '""'"'°'"' ""^ 
lations. . . . It il onlv th- ." "°*T<"*^ ""d «o«>Plex re- 
stantareousMss wWch^ , ft "T""' Z'- «'»"l«»»»«''n. "d in- . 
into w:t, theyare SJfning ^;:^"'^'^J f'T '.""""'"^ 
On the other hand humor n i J v 1. . '"*'''*** P°'"- 
tion as it asso^UtesTe i w ^h fjf ' ^"'"l'""' '" P"'?*"- 
continually passeT "inrU; nLT; K'" t^""":!!;'"^' 
humorists may be called ^se poeta ^ ^ *''"* '"°*^'"" 

beii^r cCitif Ktr ^n\^"°''' '■-^ -^ 
-toi^o;^fsr^^^ 

aious or exceptional, pointing out repeatedly that 



thoM which he hM in Lmm!^ «>« o^^j j^^^^ ^, 

for here we hav, Z ." dy o^ \ hi IL"*'*' """'deration , 
of ciwum.tooee.dev.lo™ iioVZ^" ,^"'« """o, by .tree.' 
"■•nkind, yet who i. &" b^k ^' "'""'T'^ •!*'"■>'« of 
to whoIe.ome relatione ^th hi, fen„w ""'T' '"""^"i'"" and 
prooeM a. the reawakening of hlnTlT" ^^ ""''' » ""'""J 
hi. love for the UttU Zfd^^S^'' ''r''"' l'""*'' 
find, that child ha. only be«„ t^ i". •' "'*°" ''bere he 
.ion, yet there i, n^mo™ .^werf^nv h*^ "^ '"•' I^^"'"* ''l- 
of her noyel. tb-n tha? ^^J a ' '^"""» "'>»«on in any 
«m., goe. out L the d;J''"'J,'''"'7'«'. ""« child in hi' 
footprint, in the vrl ,now*Hi *""' '^^^ by the little 
Godfrey Ca..'. opiuXt ^^ife T™ "'^•''""^ -"'ber, 
sunk low in the fur.e and hl^'/l'^l^ '"b "ber head 
•now." Therei.apio^*nf^ '"^ "'"^ *be .haken 
.ingularly gifted artShel^' 0,'"^^^^^ *'''' ^"'"'^-'^ 
Kenerally known a. a novelist wM I • ^"^"^ ^""'n- "o™ 
torialinterpretation, that teemi '^ °7 °' "'« ^o" Pio- 
«jnva. a visible embodUent "f ^r'"''''""' P^j*"' °» 'be 
Tbe pale, emaciated weaver ,L„n "^rV."' ""' ""S*""'- 
eyes at the body of the uloon. v * ""^ ''* »bort-8ighted 
on the ground, clutch ng the ]usr.r""f ''°"""' "''^^bed 
a™, while with the other he hoH*/^'*''"* "'""'* '^**b one 
? feeble gleam on the snow ii , ""i*™ '''""b throws 
intensity. ""* snow -is realized with exceptional 

to describe, unlesrle could S*!''''.''';''^^ *° '«»d, not 
delightful idyl whinh fn, ^ ** ''bole pages of this 

of description'';e:a,M;eS":^^^^^^ ^""'""P^^ P-S 
8»d-. Tranpoi. le Champi'i^a.rKuXr.^"^^ 



•wm 



oxiv 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



!»'' ;i 




CHAPTEB XI. 

KOMOLA. 

native t/Zio'eCTL^^ 'T'^ '^ '^^ P^'' ^om tS 

American correspondent- «Tf ;= u , *' *° ''° 

say, aproDos of a H?,Hn ;• ^^'''^P'' '*«« irrelevant to 

growthinmyapprlcTatbn of nf^^ V-""'' '^'^ '' «°°>« 
there has bfenTo ch^ge °J tt "f"* of" "^ "f -1-''-*- 

which are at the root of my effort toTaTnT'll \ principles 
e,u^ly at the root of my eL^'t pl^LS .^-^ ^ 

4tarnrs"umt:r^ri8^^^^ - *?"« ^-^'-^ 

that popular periodkLTJl fit.' ^"""'"S its course in 



.ifyir^w^ 



ROMOLA. 

Bxr 

how her book is appreciated bl thf v ? ^y^eanng indirectly 
"ome of the highes?rtWhYt I \'«''«^ /'^" "^ "-inds, and 
In Florence we^ear^htrfre !iU wfth'^/rT''' "^ P°P"1"- 
at such a work being executed bv»T ''^''' """^ ""'Pris^ 

had ever done anythlTome kfnd. ' "'^"' "^ " "» I*^''- 

and conversation of Its ifhaS!T'" ^"^ ^^^ "»""«'« 
the trick of Italian speech ttf '^ ^** '^' ''^''"^ "^^ght 
hung back frora l^gTnn-n ' "er ZrT' 'T ''""'^^^''^ '^-^ 
only refused to speak KalfanLl^'w ^" characters not 
^1. as we can wefl imajn M™ Povs. 'p''°"?'^ ""* ^P*^^' «* 
Maggie to have done Thl. T ^^^''' ^^'"^ Massey, and 
brought to order.and'she succeeXl"'*'""',,' P'"'^ ""« -' '"^t 
delineation of the lower eiarefthrr"'.*'^^"'^"^ '" ^>«^ 
n-ed by Italians as true to th^ We ' ^'" "^^^ '^-^- 

ItalLtSep;rSzin1 rn^^^' *« «^-*«^* --rn 
indeed, with^het^^oducSn'^in^",."'"' '''^ ^^-"^''^S' ^"l! 

fis^eof Savonarola He consMerfd.^ff''"'^ °^ *^« »^«»' 
ably with ' Adam Bede' a novefh» ^^* 'V°"'P*™'1 ""fevor- 

the marriage of Adam tith Dintf ^"°'> *'^""«''' ^" hut 
shocked h.7feelings,notra!^neanv ^°'"^'. ^""h. he said, 
of the novel-reading pubUc deLnJ ""T^'^"" 'hat the taste 
ever may have been th«T™ . *'"^°''» ^ happy ending, what- 
Another'illusSs tlST^^^' T *''^« ^'"-- 
such a subject carries 'peculiar wet^'; ^hose judgment on 
Ehot to have been much C sup J7? ' •=°"»"i"«'i George 
her novels of English co„~uf:"He";fr^\' *•>- ^^ 
the tone and color of Italian life n the fiff.K°' ^'''^ '^''' 
caught with that intuitive per L.on of a t """"'^ ""''' 
teristio of a Walter Scott or aMpinl M^^^" ^^e charac 
contemporaries of " Fra GiroLo ,f "°''°"- The Florentine 
Century men and Cnend^lr^"'^'* '<> ^''-^ Nineteenth 

the Fifteenth. The S to u»« ."^ "" '^' ""=*"'"« °f 
"native." ^' *° "'« his expression, was not 

It is a majestic book, however : the n.ost grandly planned of 



ozri 



GBORUE ELIOT. 



?' '•> 




George Ehot'e novels. It has a certain architectural dignity 
of structure quite m keeping with its Italian national,^, a 

TJ^^' ^^. * ' ^^^^ '""'™^y ''''»*°' ^™" tl^" three later 
Zof Mr t' ?'"J««"^«.l'istorical background is not unlike 
one of Mr. Irving-s magnificently wrought Italian stage^ffects, 
neh in movement and color, yet helping to throw the chief 
figures into greater relief. The erudition shown in this work 
the vast yet minute acquaintance with the habits of thought' 
he manners, the very talk of the Florentines of that day are 
truly surprising; but perhaps the very fact of that eruriUion 
being so perceptible shows that the material has not teen 
absolutely vitalized. The amount of labor George EUot 
expended on 'Romola' was so great that it was the Ck 
which she remarked to a friend, "she began a young woman 
and ended an old one." The deep impresfion her ZrZZ 

tTolnT .'^"'''"'"''.'''^ heightened her natural conscie^ 
tiousness and her gratitude for the confidence with which 
each fresh contribution from her pen was received, increied 
her anxiety to wield her influence for the highest ends. 

the critin', ^^h*""*' *°, the public by no means extended to 
the critics. She recoiled from them with the instinctive 
shrinking of the sensitive plant. These interpreteis"en 
author and public were in her eyes a most superfluous modern 
nst tution : though at one time she herself h^ not scornTto 
sit m the critic's seat. It is well known that G. H Lewes 
acted aj a kind of moral screen protecting her from evlry 
gust or breath of criticism that was not entirely ge^aT One 

^e'hel oV:.''"" "''''' ^"^ °° *"« ^^-^•' '^■•"J -ritten off in 
the heat of the moment, and, with the freedom of old friend- 
nf fL fi VP"'"°S.tlie warmest admiration for the beauty 
of the first two volumes, she had ventured to find fault wUh 
part of the third. This letter was returned by Lewes who 
begged her at the same time never to write again^inthTst^in 

o George Ehot, to whom he had not ventu^d to show itT 
fear it should too painfully affect her. In a letter t^ the 
American lady already mentioned, George Eliot, X^fer 
ring to this habit of Mr. Lewes, says : « In this way T^t con- 
firmed n my impression that the criticism of any new writing 
IB shifting and untrustworthy. I hardly think tU L J criti! 



BOMOLA. 



tx-rii 



imagine any edification coming to In anfhl f ''^'^ ^ '"""'°* 
rev.e«ring which consists in attr.ttTn/t^ hi ".* '"'^ °* 
pressed opinions, and in imasininlni^ . "" "'■ ^" ""ex- 
alleged as petty private Toti™ 7 """"'ta'x'^s which may be 
which ought t^roTg^^erhl""; 'r""*"'°*«''»'J^'='» 
been led into this rathfr suner«„ '"'*'*''• " " • ^ ^^^'^ 

mention of a rule wh chseemef 7' '°-' "' '^'"^''' ^'^ *he 

And again on another r^r ^^T"' explanation." 
not expect criticism from me T wl! T^ ''^'"'= "«"' ^o 
judgment,' and I would^SLrL 'i'v"°« '» **>« ««"' °f 
with the sense that th J Cget Z^' . ' P?"]" ^^""''"y 
without necessarily fo^i^ne ^n ^ ?'"'' ^'""^ ^ book 

would mshinto stating Sons Ifd """."J ''' "'''" ^ 
nonsense printed in the form nf 1 5 I °: ^''^ ^"ods of 
achief curseof ourtTmes -achW r T°'°°' ^^^-^ '» »« 

In spite of these s^^restrL/^^ ""A"*"*^^^ 
opinions, an "opinioXlt "owll"" 1""'='' '"«' t^-^" 
This novel may really b^^udtredf^ *r° ''^"' '^°'»°la-' 
points of view, V)ssibly from oth„/T ^7° .^^^''^'^ 'liffe™'^* 
to me, from t^o Klv conll >' '' ''"*■ ** '' Wears 
with its moving pageant7fts civ « h -,"'•*" W^torical work, 
its religious revfv^tlt'fickle Zn,™ '' '*' "'"""''' ^«»«^->« 
Pope, and now with tLw^W^'^T' ""^ t'*^'"? ^'"^ the 
Or again one may re^Ird thl^ '■^°™'' °* "'^ P^Pacy. 
Eomola and Tito, ^the !w snfritr/"^"' .f'""""" '^'^^en 
the swifter moral dislnSa fon of th^o'Iher"' *'" °°^' '"^ 
"t trft 'T.^ •" P^^''''"^"^^ in tare"' " °"^ °' *^« 
men? oTtht ^histS 'Sl^'"!; ^°"-,^ --"ierable ele- 
they are not without a J^t "f ' J,'"' ^''^^^ ^""'ed *hat 
The author seems to move omewha^ hrT'' T^ ^'^'"'^y- 
of learning, and we misrthT!,.,.^"'^"'"^^'"''*'^ weight 

ease of movement whrchShak^^f'^l'^i""' '^'^*"^»« ^d 
how to imoart to chB^t ''hakespeare, Goethe, and Hugo know 

instead o^^he peor^e ' „r°"'''-'""^ spectacular effects If^ 

the people, the larg'J CsivrTmr -'"'r" "'° '^°»'-*«'i 

one must admit i^:'ZZZZl\'^-''^i!Z^--:^ 



"*''" GEOBGE ELIOT. 

faithfully executed but not produced at one throw. He does 
not take the imagination by storm as he would have done had 
Carlyle been at his fashioning. With an epithet or two, with a 
sharp, incisive phrase, the latter would have conjured the 
great Dominican from his grave, and we should have seen 
him, or believed at least that we saw him, as he was in the 
flesh when his impassioned voice resounded through the 
Duomo, swaying the hearU of the Florentine people with the 
force of a great conviction. That he stands out thus tangibly 
in 'Eomola' it would be futile to assert : nevertheless, he is a 
noble, powerful study, although one has laboriously to gather 
into one's mind the somewhat mechanical descriptions which 
help to portray his individuality. The idea underlying the 
working out of this grand character is the same which Goethe 
had once proposed to himself in his projected, but unfortu- 
nately never executed, drama of 'Mahomet.' It is that of a 
man of moral genius, who, in solitude and obscurity, has con- 
ceived some new, profounder aspect of religious truth, and 
who, stirred by a sublime devotion, now goes forth among 
men to bless and regenerate them by teaching them this 
higher life. But in his contact with the multitude, in his 
efforts at influencing it, the prophet or preacher is in his 
turn mfiunnced. If he fails to move by the loftiest means he 
will gradually resort to the lower in order to effect his pur- 
pose. The purity of his spirit is tarnished, ambition has crept 
in wnere holiness reigned, and his perfect rectitude of purpose 
will be sacrificed so that he may but rule. 

Such are the opposing tendencies co-existing in Savonarola's 
mixed but lofty nature. For " that dissidence between inward 
reality and outward s?eming was not the Christian simplicity 
afte winch he had striven through years of hi.s youth and 
prime, and which he had preached as a chief fruit of the 
Divme life. In the heat and stress of the, day, with cheeks 
burning, with shouts ringing in the ears, who is so blest as to 
remember the yearnings he had in the cool and silent morn- 
ing, and know that he has not belied them?" And again: 
• It was the habit of Savonarola's mind to conceive great things, 
and to feel that he was the man to do them. Iniquity should 
be brought low ; the cause of justice, purity, and love should 






HOMOLA. „j^ 

.enseofaelf^7trdTn1he:e:^'rfth:n"'''*'*ri.f°''''"-«'''« 
part of his experience laVZelementeT*''''"''''",'' *" ""'* 
ment, but ia the presenoe';,^ his X^et ffrT' "f ■*'^''- 

his sius'but bocautWXir'l'r' ""' ^='-« o^ 
to deceive the world, but beca«»«T ' ""i ''«'=a"«e he sought 
And through that greatness of ht h ?^*.'° ""^^ '' '""'le. 
not only the 4ilfnTa„dfl.„i"'^"™'^^'^°"We agony; 
but the agony oi^°fCl'^;,^„'*««' ^^^ the death-throe 
ment into thft d^ep sh^„^ wh 'I'T"'" °^ 8'°"°"» acbieve- 

as nothing: dairs'fn::n;it:°Te^^^^^^^ 

was the true light.'" ^ ^'"^ ^ saw 

atSn^^t «'CG?rSo»"'"^f T '^« "hief interest 
Eomola'f spirituS g^h Thi?^"'*" \^'' '"^''^''^ »" 
yet in most novels thSinrt '°='y P^'^'^'y be a blemish ; 

oalones. The effe t pS eTbv Z ^ V""'','' V^« ^'»'°"- 
not unlike that of an antiol .f=. '''^ '"gb-souled Romola is 

tiful and imposS cold B^th^'/"r.'P^^°'''<^'y^*"■ 
oneof the pure whiteness of L?w ',°* ^'*^ '^^ """'"^s 
with the rich gIowin7seluoLZ f ""^^^'' ^ <"'°'^^*«d 

It is difficult tl aXe X ;^^ *'''*" P''='"^- 
hearted Eomola, who h^ som«fh ^^"5 '°"°8' «'"8l«- 
impetuosity of the old « BaT bl'2 - *'.' ^'f"^'' '"^ 

this impression of coldnesirt ii^Jie'^f h'' ''r'V^''^« 
nanimity and self-rfpvnt;„„ ""^'° spite of her acts of mag- 

case. Perhaps rttrrtkn?; """""^'^ ^"""^h, is t^e 
character too^ much a cord^Ho T, ''"'!* """^^"^^ '^e 
instead of projects TtcoZli Ph'Iosophical conception 
night have'oome f?om 'the htd ^f ^^."'-'"P'^'ei.-s, as it 
tion sometimes brought forward of 1^ I'V ^^°'^" °''J^'=- 
resemblanee to an Italif r^oif of t": fiftZt!, '"' !'"'^ 
seems to me less relevant Th» l^w I .''"centh centniy, 
intense adhesion to flmi l tldi.^ ^ '*'^"'^' *''' P''-^^' *« 
very marked attr bu ^ ofa hth „ 'r'',' ?" 'l """"''"y' 
PeWod Of Italian supreml;. t ^£ ^^^^ ^^ 



•tr 



"" OEORQB ELIOT. 

Without hints and suggestions of such a woman as Vittoria 
Colonna, while its d.daotio tendency slightly recalls "those 
iJ^t i?""-? "^^'^'^ '?° ^'^^ professorial chairs, and were 

ch Id of the Renaissance. Brougl.t up by her father, the 
enthusiastio old scholar in pagan ideas, she had rem;ined 
aloof from Boman Catholic beliefs and superstitions, and 
r„ ''^*" V'T'L°."°«'l ^y ^^^ ">i«hty influence of Savonarola 
into a devoted Puignone, her attitude always remains more 
or less that of a Protestant, unwilling to surrender the right 
of private judgment to the Church. 

h.^V^^^ of character when a woman like Eomola finds 
herself chained in a life-long bond to such a nature as Tito's 
-the beautiful, wiy, insinuating Greek -is wrought out 
with wonderful skill and matchless subtlety of analysis. 
Indeed, Tito is not only one of George Eliot's most original 
creations, he is a unique character in fiction. Novelisto as 
a rule, only depict the full-blown villain or traitor, their 
virtuous and wicked people being separated from each other 
by a hard and fast line much like the goats and sheep. Thev 
continually treat character as something permanent and un- 
changeable, whereas to George Eliot it presents itself as an 
organism flexible by nature, subject to change under varvine 
conditions, liable on the one hand to disease and deteriora- 
tion, but on the other hand no less capable of being reha- 
bihtated, refined, or ennobled. This is one of the most 
distinctive notes of George Eliot's art, and gives a quickening 
fructifying quality to her moral teaching. But it is an 
artistic no less than a moral gain, sharpening the interest 
lelt in the evolution- of her fictitious personages. For this 
reason Tito, the creature of circumstances, is perhaps the 
most stnkmg of all her characters in the eyes of the psychol- 
ogist We seem to see the very pulse of the human machine 
laid bare, to see the corroding effect of self-indulgence id 
dread of pain on a nature not intrinsically wicked, to see at 
last how little by little, weakness has led to falsehood, and 
falsehood to infamy. And yet this creature, who. under 
our eyes, gradually hardens into crime, is one so richly 
dowered with rare gifts of person and mind, that in spite of 



BOMOLA. 



flUi 



s - a„ftr„7uptsttr ". "^- - ^- Z 

hi». His beauty is deSd wX th« ° '^''f '»°'*«' ^i*>> 
»'ty as Hetty's: the wa^m gW of J"""* "^'""' '°*«"- 
moulded face, with its dark curis and 7 '" ^'' P*'^«'='l>' 
his sunny brightness of look 21.ZVF "^^'^-'ike eyes, 
with ;.hioh he ingratiat^^ hiiirlTA''"''' °* " ""'""" 
the airy buoyancy of his wholT! .^"""S »'"1 °W, and 

portrayed as the quick S ^t?'T .'^'"»' *™ <" ^^^idly 
natural, the abundant good^ ulr th'I t\ "'"^'""^ """"^^ 
intellect, whose sUrp edg^ w!n at ^^"""' °^ " P^^^^od 
through every tissue of sentime"; °'''' *"" ^«>en«essly 

to the moment when hs id" w'".^ ^ ^""'^' '" ^imi 
him from such a search and'^in"n1'* ^T"""' ^•''''"-^ 
when, suddenly face to f^e whh m" t *Y ""P™"* crisis 
him, and so is inevitably Zed fl^' benefactor, he denies 
cruelty to another still bSer IT *"' °^ baseness and 
"=>. by an unshrinking aS,e7lf h*'' ""^""''^'^ ^^°'o 
might not inappropriately TZlel " a""^" ,f *'"'«' ^''^t 
The wonderful art in the wo,i,- ^ ^°"' » Tragedy." 

«bown in the fact bat one ha °L°"' °'- ''"^ "^aracter^ s 
Titos innate badness, but, on loir"'"! "°P™^"°° "* 
his first lapses from truth «nH «°°'rary, feels as if, after 
sibility of^is reform ngN^tnirtrt"," """ '^ P^- 
nature were not driven on almn=. • ■^°^'^ Pleasure-loving 
shuddering dread of sham; o Tuffer,?'''' °' ^'°"'«"' ''^ ^f 
writes George Eliot, "TUo ZlfZ"^ '" ''''\^°''^- "For," 
law of human souls that Jfn '^ ^""'"^ "^^^ inezorab le 
deeds by the reiteratVchoice of'^'^S'' ""f'"^^ '"' ^"''den 
determines character." ^"""^ °' *^'' ''bioh gradually 

The description of the married iifn nf t> , 
unsurpassed in George EIint'« I , / ^""""'^ *n<i Tito is 
of insight : notabl7the younrif;,'"': ^"'"'^'^ -"d <lepth 
complete inner harfnony hrfifstain/" ''"^'"^ ^""^ 
-ething wanting, be/ instinct; t^^rtoTe;^^!^ 



# '^^ 



oxxii 



OEOROE KUOT. 



«,. ' J ■ ** '"""''» "bsolutely surrender, Dn'dl 

tliat which we find nottmyed in ' Romola ' ■ it i. . i ^1 

H..1 with the fullesrbeli/f i„ the trlh and good„ ^of the" 
beloved object, so that at the first realization o/rralobliauitv 
the repuW created extinguishes that love, although tKs 
no outward severance of the marriage bond. ^ 

w7 f *'!f """"^^ "'°'*' ''*''' '!"»« significant words which 
Eono^a addresses to Lillo, Tito's child, but not her ow^f 

And so, my Lillo, if you mean to act nobly, and seek to 
know the best things God has put within reach ormanvo^ 
must learn to fix your mind on that end, and m.t on Zat w?n 
happen to you because of it. And rem'ember if you te^'^to 
choose so,^ethmg lower, and make it the rule of your life t^ 
seek your own pleasure and escape from what is ddn.ll. 
calamity „,ight come Just the sam'e; and ." wluld be fa Lmitv 
falling on a base mind, which is the one form of sorrow X^ 

t„ iTh "J" u' '"'^ "'^' "*y ^«" "ake a ma° say at 
would have been better for me if I had never been ten !^'" 



BEB PU£M£^ 



OKiil 



CHAPTEB XII. 

HB« POEm. 

the chief landmark's "Su2eye!:'l8r-''T'' '°*" ^<"- 
mroumstances of some importlnfe InTH" ''""»8"'''hed by 

4"l?B=rrs:tr.^-V^-n^M™. .e.es moved 
;^ North Bank, St. John's wS wS h '"""'»'"^'°« house 
mately associated with the Cl„ °i'^'« <«""« *» be inti- 
•n the pleasant dwellin/rnmnf^''^^ *^°°'8e Eliot. Here 
»ight be met, at her sfX^lfif '^ .°'^«» '°"^^'> 
the most eminent men in litoTaturfrr T'P"°'"'' """^ "f 
rest her life flowed on its even tennr^. "''""'*• ^°' the 
regulated. The monainglm^n/h °me ""*'"' "^'"^ "^'-Uy 
townting: in the afternoon she efherT '7''"''"^ '^«^°'«d 
dnre of about two hours, or she ?^lr n °"' ^°' « quiet 
Regent's Park. There th« .f ^^ * ''*''' '''th Lewes in 

a certain weird, tfeuiS^t T^r^'^-'''^""" 
PoUsh refugee of vivacious mannerslmtK? ^"^^ ™''^'"Pt 
>ng their arms, as they hurried alon~r^ ^ ''*°' '^''^S- 
eager as their talk. Besides th«^,f' * P^« ^ 'apid and 
recreation consisted Xl^UnJ'"^''' ^'°'«' ^''o*'" "hie? 
Jenes. To music she was n!c • ^ concerts and picture cal 
failing to attend^t riaCr X "'''°^'' '--^'^ -- 
James's Hall, besides frequenting ^H "" """""^^ »t St. 
such as the following extr^t frL """'."""''"^ '^""io"^. 



oxziv 



OEOROE EUOT. 



; I 
I 



.Sv fJlh" ''m"^ '".••" P"°P'* '•"> '"'Bht be nothing but 
.imply fMh oMble. t^ing pain, to sing fine niu«io in tune 

know""; o ' '"Z "' '"h rr'- °"« "' ""> •»"'«-- 

MOW u » o , who Med to be » gwell guardgman. and haa 

happ.ly taken to good oourae, while .till qu^ y^unr a" 

wife of the Queen's Se^^-u'; -Get'TplUte ^^,' 
..a..g..ter of Earl Grey, and juftlirhSin^II^ace-K 

theu..Sa^mt/ '''«'' "'^ "« --^^-"^ "^--" 

MMto™»\T'H "'^"•""l^'o'i t° visit the "Exhibition of Old 
Masters at Burlington House. To most people few thin™ 
exemse so great a strain on their mental anrptsicalpoweS 
of endurance as the inspection of a picture cilery, with IS 
nessant appeal to the most concentrated att^nt oT Yet, in 

looki^^ wTthTh'""*^ *•■-' "•'* ~"''^ 8° °°' l'""' ''f'" hour, 
looking with the same unflagging interest at whatever pos^ 

thlt we "^nt"" *" ""*""""' """8 °"* «-«" vigo^iL Z 
»1 ™ ^1 f <='""Pany- 1° her works the allusions to art 
are much less frequent than to music; but from a few hinL 
here and there, it is possible to form some idTo? W ^^ 
one very significant passage in 'Adam r.h!. 1 • v ' 
SuT T ^' ^'^Wn'ings, tnrJt^^Jl'^: 

sXls andhr •"* "^'°'" oloud-borne angels, from pr^pheto" 
sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over hw 

SrrrttL"*".' her soUtary dinner, while thf noon^y 
mfhL..^^ P'^'^P' ^y » ^'"^en of leaves, falls on W 
niob^ap, and just touches the rim of her spinning wheel and 
her stone jug, and all those cheap commo/th"ni which ar^ 
the precious necessaries of life to her " 

GaSs'""sh7wn.T'* °' "^"'^^ ^"°''^ ''"^ *he Zoological 

a^rrpaSuS s?f r^-s rs'^hr^^'; 
p?a=:ras^Si5£S^H 



BEH POEMB. 

P'g.,led her to watoh them attenZh "' "F""""""" of little 
particular favorite i„ e^ry Sr f' T *" ''''"' ""' """'e 
too, «he W.H fond of turning n!l V " ^"' """"^'y ""nble. 
n..ct life teeming in md.l dark' nl"*" '° ""*P«'" '^'' '"'»"^' 
terested aa Lei^es himself fn fh/ ^ """' »"'' "he waa u in. 
or .oientiflo purpose, indir^^n"' '"«"• '''^•' """"Pt 

Making their entrance ntothir '"""'«'>oW by suddenly 
the .. poor brutes," rsLeLiethr^JT"- ««' I'Wng ?o^ 
■n the same source o1 profound d^v^h'^h"! °"»'° »° ^-^b 

fading, or inking and sLrh'"',''"'"''. "^^ "pent in 
»o to the theatre on Iny ooZ*L°« L*"" '''!«,'"'d ^e^e. used to 
Salvmi appeared in "oth'^n" "P*"'*' '"'««»'. as when 
peatedly by both wL .«7^ ' * P<"formance attended r« 
rarely iVhom'e, I d\m 'St'^af 'f,'"'- OtherSl;;- 

although they fflado an eVptbnfntL„'' ^P'"'" '""""'^ 
They were both fond of t«™ ? °"' °^ » ^»'ored few 

possible, would take tr^os t^ ^Jn'^ '""^' ''J"'»«ver it wm 
English rural retreat awav fro™ ^k"","*"*' " "^^^ some q„l^ 
don. '. For," say. Le^L den^? '^"^r '"">»" "^ I^n 
never seem, at home except unde^i^'" *i«"«'' "Mrs. Lewes 
the greenth of the uplands ronn^K n""^ '"^^P of sky and 
qaently contriving a chant« T ^"- ^° "« And them f« 

--tries, the plel'Srir/ '"''''' ^"'« '"^^^^^^ 
Continental town« << ^1"!^"°» °? 'ong .uinmer dav, th^.'fu 



-ntries, tii^pl^^^^tSL^^^ir "'^ ^^-^^ 

■^1 towns, "doling Si*™r^"^' *''«'»»•• 

episodes in George E&lril?J«'::.^°-«d 



already been alluded to. Now i„ th. ^ ^^^"^ '" ^858, has 
short visit to Prance in th * ^^^'^ ^866, thev MiH » 

-andy,Brittany,rd'Crlrr:trni:'"''' ^^ «"- 
the beginning of the auturnn ^^'"°'°8 ""eh refreshed at 

wentto Spain,aco„nt,^thr^„,^7 ^''" '*"«''^"ds they 

nterest for both; for in IMfi w ^T "°«««s«ed a peculi„ 

rfone-sided, Httle book oShe ZnS h """''*'' '""'^">'"" 

« Wee to I^pe de Vega andtE f ^ T^i« 



11 fl 



cxxri 



J U. 



I 



OEOROB ELIOT. 



year after tha appearance of < Romolo.' George Eliot produced 
the first draught of ' The 8,«ini.h Oyp»y.' On beooming per- 
sonally acquainted with tbii land of "old romance," however 
her imprcHsions were so far modified and deepened that (he 
tm'lSes.'""' ainplified her poem, which was not published 

The subject of the gypsies was probably suggested to George 
Khot by her own memorable adventure in childhood, which 
thus became the germ of a very impressive poem. Be that as 
It may. It 18 worth noticing that the conception of ' The Spanish 
Gypsy should have followed so closely on the completion of 
the Ita ,an novel, both being foreign subjects, belonging to 
much the same period of history. In both the novelist ha. 
departed from her habitual track, seeking for " pastures new » 
in a foreign soil. After inoulcat-ug on the artist the desir- 
ability of giving " the loving pains of a life to the faithful 
representation of commonplace things," she remarks in ' Adam 
Bede that "there are few prophets in the world, few sub- 
limely beautiful women, few heroes," and that we cannot 
afford to give all our love and reverence to such rarities. But 
having followed this rule, and given the most marvellously 
truthful delineations of her fellow-men as they are ordinarily 
to be met with, she now also felt prompted to draw the exoep- 
tional types of human character, the rare prophets, and the 
sublime heroes. 

To her friend Miss Simcox, George Eliot one day mentioned 
a plan of giving '-the world an ideal portrait ol an actual char- 
acter in history, whom she did not name, but to whom she 
alluded as an object of possible reverence unmingled with 
disappointment." This idea was never carried out, but at any 
rate Dinah Morris, Savonarola, Zarca, and Mordecai are all 
exceptional beings - beings engrossed by an impersonal aim, 
having the spiritual or national regeneration of their fellow- 
men for Its object. Dinah and Savonarola are more of the 
nature of prophets; Zaroa and Mordecai of that of patriots. 
Among these the fair Methodist preacher, whose yearning 
piety is on y a more sublimated love of her kind, is the most 
vividly realized; while Mordecai, the patriot of an ideal coun- 
try, 18 but the abstraction of a man, entirely wanting in that 



Ml^ 



HKR FORMH. 



oxxvil 



M«. Po7„™, her sX CntJ^?^-'"'''-'''^'''.':'^''^"' her 
^d Eppie.. Yet the™ i.^ ' ■ ^'l ^'^^ ""'« Tottie. 
PO.rerof invention in the ierotr'"''''/^"" »''"«''"" ""I 
"Pite of this^r, temi«T/*"''°^.^^^ "'"•""Kb, in 

Iwbella, with the ^l^i\ ' ^P^'" °^ ^'erdinand and 

national tr«lition., he d?i not Zll """^ "'r'^"*"'"' °' ''" 
the spirit which aniltedth*.-^^ '"""''''' '" resuscitating 
U-. .-pictu^oaqao Zes The c^tr'' "T,'' ^"■"'"'""' ''"' 
«atrologer.Zawa.andthe8nln,-.^r ''"."°''''' '^e Jewish 

gloriously conceivr/Fel^r trS'tW V^r''' ""«•"• 
much like sublimated m^f nerse f think and speak too 

would.couId.orrSany'^;" ^th tft- I"' """P"'' 
expressed himself in the folKgleif'''""'"'*"""'^ '"'^« 

Wl!t r""?""""' '- » "=■«" place, 

Of heXt. '""."'?" '■■ ••>"■■« 'oil. the truth 

«fy, m the silent bodily presence feel 

WhlnT-' L ""?"« "' » ^"""on life 
Which make, the many one: fidelity 
Tothe coDKcrating oath our ,pon»or Fate 



■'■^ff' 






H', .( 



'■**"" GEORGE ELIOT. 

Fmi thoa th«t oath, my daughtor-My, not (eu. 
But love It ; for th« Mnctity of oathi 
Lies not in Ughtning that avenges them 
Bot.m the injury wrought by broken bonds 
And in the garnered good of human trust." 

J/ ' -rTe'tri^h °r *"'*"'°' f "e«pond, to the exalted theme 
of The Spanish Gypsy,' a subject certainly fitted for drama 
or romance rather than for the novel, properly ocadled 
Nothing cou!,l apparenUy be better adapted for the purposes 

the ^^H "^^ "^T- "'" " °°'^^°8 1«»« tJ>^ the fusioH 
lith!^^' ' ^"^""'S' lawless gypsy tribes into one nation 
with common traditions and a common country: the romantic 

S"of1i^tl'nT"V;'J^ '°^* '^''»«'"*-^° *•>« "^nced 
br.de of Silva, Duke of Bedmar: the supreme conflict in 
Fedalma's breast between love and duty, her renunciatSn o? 
happmess in order to cast in her lot with that of her ouL^t 

Sn S/r '" r '' '-^ '^«=«'*-° "^ ••- ~S 

FelC \ tis solemn responsibilities to turn gypsy for 
seeing the fortress committed to his trust taken by the gypsies 
kin Isidor the inquisitor, hanged before his very eyes a 

Zarca'L'^"^''!,""! *\'*' ^^""^^ """^"^o-^ °' ^^^ ^^ ^e %s 
from ;hrt'"' "J*^'" ^'°"''" ^°'^"'"' ^^ ^ i-^Paasable guff 
fron. the woman for whose sake he had turned apostate. 

.n-eif f'2'"'^r ^"'* containing the highest capabilities, and, if 
^eat thoughts constituted a great poem, this should be one 

.mbued''w^h ''• ^"' T* "^' '*^ ''■^'^ "«"*«' ''« -"timents 
imbued with rare moral grandeur, its felicitous descriptionr 
the work la«ks that best and incommunicable gift which 
comes by nature to the poet. Here, as in her noveirwlS 
George Eliofs instinctive insight into the primary pa sTonso 

tision Tt h^f Vh" :f '^"P^''"^ ^"^ I^ercingYeenness o 
wfth^;.^ ^ thoughts, instead of being naturally winged 
with melody, seem mechanically welded into song. This 
applies to all her poetic work, although some of it, especS^^ 
•rhe Legend of Jubal,' reaches a much higher derrerof 
metrical and rhythmical excellence. But although Geor^ 



HEB POPMS. 



CXzU 



do we perceive so ole^ L' tfe tie " 7" T"' ^°-^"« 
view of life; nowliere doe? shT«n ! ^ ^ ?"""* '^°«''« °^ ^^' 
stern lesson of the dutyof 11^^,^'"'^"^ '«'*«"**« «>« 
that other doctrine tharthetadS.,-*".'' '^^-'^^ifice ; or 
subordinate his personal hap^L t 'tT '' ^"f '''^°'"*«'y *" 
has no rights save the right of fulfill \"^'t^ good, that he 
age, his country, a„d his fl^ l!"''Sif idr'"^t'" '° '>'" 
completely incorporated in Fedalm, f^ " P*'^^P^ ™ore 

characters_Fedalmrwhn»V u^^" '° ^"^ other of her 

the fullest measu e ^f beaurw:'^"."f""^*°'^°^«''-"^ 
renunciation may be th« m^' I' f"* ^'^iness, that her 

young joy snddLy kn wTTerstfl'^-., ''" ^ '" »•- 
exclaiming: Jierself as "an aged sorrow," 

^i a „1"",* ^ ■"'' ">"'"' ''"'■ '"e hour.: 

It IS a part of me-a wakened thonght 

That, ramg hke a giant, mastem me? 

And grows into a doom. O mother life. 
That seemed to nourish me so tenderly, 
Eyen ,n the womb you yowed me to the fire 
Hung on my «,«! the burden of men", ho^ 
And pledged me to redeem l-I'U pay tKbt 
Ton gave me strength that I should ^ulit^ 
Into th,s anguish. I can neyer shrink 

^tlirn^baTmlhr^'..'— -»« 

ni^oTn^n^t*:urtf J" n-^ -^'^^out hope; for 
satisfied in !uch°a Sme ISo/^s' - ' ^ " ""' '^^*-« 

- - full Of .ne thoughts' ^lirsrexS^S^i: 








* I 




cxxx 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



would be unfair not to allude to them. Such a specimen as 
^^X^^T"""- "* '^' «'""^1 ''"^i«" between thrHeUen?^ 
,nnl,l ^ v.f '"° '^"'^'' "^ ''^^^ Heine was the orig^l^d 
incomparable expounder, should not be left unnoted : 

With giMder rMoirectioa than ww feigned 
Of Attila » fierce Hnns, the sonl of Greece 
CoDquew the bulk of Persia. The maimed form 
Of calmly joyou. beauty, marble-limbed, 
Yet breathing with the thought that shaped its limbs, 
I«oksm,ld reproach from out it, opened^ve 
At creeds of terrer; and the vine-wreathed god 
Fronts the p.erced Image with the crown of thorns." 

And^again how full of deep mysterious suggestion is this 

" f^^ '' '"" ''™^™ "S"" "Pon the depth 
Of the unspoken." 



And this grand saying — 



"What times are little? To the sentinel 
fhat hour is regal when he mounts on guard " 

fZ kOk k!'""^"* sweetness "of sound and sense which U 
the brthnght of poets. If an intimate and profound sT 
qnamtance with the laws and structure of metre ruld bestow 

verse ought to have achieved the highest success Kor in 

governing these matters. j m me laws 

hnw7- *°'?1'="''''>1« ?•>« felt the poefs influence to be and 
how fam she would have had him wield this influence on^J 



HEH POEMS. 



czzxi 



"tddressed to one who hj b^t ?»?i^/ ^^^"^ P*'*""' «« 
time when his rarr^et^ ttJ ^ ^"P"*"**' "* ^^^ ^«'y 
widely recognized "^als^TLr'' ^t""^^ *° "^ """^^ 
City of Dreiiful Kight ' a ™^™ v?' "" ^"''•°^ °^ '^he 
pages of the ^.S k%'CS ST'^^"' - ''"e 
v.," was thus addressed byXoJeStf "'°'*"" "' "^• 

ance in the poem which von hL! V °' ^'"°'' *■"> ^and utter- 

" Also. I Z,t Thatan inten! ^'- ^~ ^°°^ ■" ^ »«»d "«■ 
energy aa your, wiitl^^f^^'^^t^hT^^^^ °'"'='' "-»'-«'« 

brace of human fellowship suc^ rwlu b?.^ t";"!!'''"' » "''*«' «■»- 
what the Odes of Tyrtffius were^Th^ e '""'e laborers of the world 
the sublimity of the^sSa! ^dertd th/"**"'' '^^"^ "^em with 
that would dissolve it To^oL^^f the courage of resistance to all 
to take a very large LIltX^tZJT ""'='' ^"^ P"^'^^' '» 
to draw with it nece8sarilv^ft7m-' • ?^ '""°*'' «'»<'■ and seems 

^^.. Of the — TX-'iJ^xt^iir-r-i? :r 

wr^ V;t t Ir 'rrri '*''^"^«' ^''"^-^^ ^''^ 
cipient they are so wHh T dTfferenfe' 7:^' " "« ^ 
'The City of Dreadful Tvrj^iT*. ■ ° ^"^ pessimism of 
paralyzes the inmost ntvSi'fet "" ,'if ""^ ''opelessness. 
in cold obstruction Whre^(Lt^rp,f"? *^ ''"''"''"al 
to the utmost "th^ burthen of^wfu^l' ^^^' ^«eosnizing 
shine has a heart of care " in»if ^^^' ^^""^ «^«° ^^e sun! 
this common suffering bTids man ^ ""? °" '"'^ ^««* *hat 
that so far from iustffvVn, ..• °'^ mdissolubly to man: 

will," the grornfaid tli'"r''"^.>'^ "^« "-»>- ^^ 
should stand firm It his 00^.1^?'?'°°' """^^ ''^^^ he 
tion or requitaLso lone Zw lA '' u ^ P'"°°'" """^'d^'a- 
the fate of his felTow^mortak 1? I """" ^"^^ '"^^'-^^ "taking 



cxzzii 



GROROE ELIOT. 





that would haveltlSK SeXS^wTo'hl' t""" 
nearest to you, aud aUo by some who L more £±7 AnS 
U IS this kmd of good which must reconcile i^to^t / f 
any answer to the question, 'What S f^ * • ' """l""* 
been without mfl?' tL^ -^ T "^ *''® universe have 
A B =r,!r>i!i, u ^"^ P°"" one has to care for is 'Are 
A, a, and C the better for me ? ' AnH )•»>-,.» ,', ™ 

"The benignant strength of one, tramformed 
To joy of many." ^^ 

«fiJ«V^^ intoxicating flush of success, the singer, who has 

c^n tLte the •" °i ""• '■' *'** "««°«« transcendent wh^" 
rift^nl J°y °f.«''''y°8 multitudes," loses her glorious 

c'^L" T„%r^ "fr"*''*"^ *° '^ ""^'"^86 among the 
crowd. In the first delirium of despair she longs to put an 
end to herself, "sooner than bear the yoke of thwf^^wl " 
but ,s pamfuly startled from her defiant mood W^e nli«. 
nant query of Walpurga, her humble cousin - * 

"Where » the rebel', right for yon alone ' 
Woble rebeUion lifts a common load ■ 
But what is he who flings his own load off 
And leaves his f eUows toiling ? Bebel'. right 1 



FEUX HOLT AND MIDDLEMARCH. 

Sv rathe, the d«e«„^ Oh. you .mU^ 
Which yet you brand ae abject." 



oxxziii 



EHot should i'^ply'HtX^^ZTy:i^y,r'''t'''''' ««"'«« 
exceptional gift, but rathe. thatTrt ^T '° ^" '' °°' *^« 
shares with ordinary huml ty Thi« , .' "*'"" '"'''=^ «>>« 
leading beliefs, and stroagTy Lt^., V' °^'^*'' °°* °* ^er 
Carlyle. To the author oT. Co^s^ •!:*'"'"' "''" 
mass — moilingandtoilin^M w.„ t P. ^® promiscuous 
miners and laborers -only Teptsenfs :T^ T^ "'''''''' ^ 

Ir ""v!"'' " p'°'i"-i thatZi r^'uirand iLrr°'''r'' 

the combination of human forces -trLf. I . '"""P^ °^ 
warrior, great poet, and s^forth T„r ^S?""''"' «'"''' 
contrary-and thisisthp hI ,.^°. George Eliot, on the 

is the multitude so chari!v tt^'f 1." t' °' ^" nature -it 
deepest sympathy and tendere«f ^ '*'"°^' ''^^'^ <='^i«« 
greatness, in her eyes is nnr» .""f P^»'°"i 8° that all 
entails on its possessor ! T ?"'^''«8«. ^ut a debt, which 
devotion to thf ^ Z r^TCCLr' ^ ^^^^^^ 



CHAPTER XIII. 

FELIX HOLT AlfD MIDDLEMARCH. 

i;SneSettrn^;^S^^^^ «^-«« ^»°* 
supreme and unrivalled -Ihe^nll * ^' ''^™ ^''^ ^'ands 

life. This work, which however? nof^^f'^ P™^'°«'^' 
or later fictions, yet posseZaft^. m • '^"^' "^ her earlier 
the only one of hlr^^ZTTroJttll T""'' '"' "'• ^' '^ 
views may be inferred^f weTxoTudf '^ """^"'^ P""*'"-! 

to be part of the novel seewth^fT?' '"''' '"'^««'^' seems 

Working Men, by P°hx HoTt " ThV " '°''"''* "^'J<1™''« *<• 

direct and concise form, p ecise^ ^f^' ""'°**'"'' '" '^ ■»""• 

m, precisely the same general views as 




•M-;*,, 



*-'.. 



^■fe 






OEOBGE ELIOT. 

regards the principles of government which were previously 
enunciated through Felix the Eadical. It was an appeal to 
the operative classes who had been only recently enfranchised 
by the Reform BUI. Its advice is mainly to the effect that 
pnuine po itical and social improvements to be durable must 
be the result of inward change rather than of outward legisla- 
tiou. The writer insists on the futility of the belief that 
beneficwl political changes can be effected by revolutionary 
measures. She points out the necessity of a just disorimini- 
tion bet'^een what is curable in the body politic and what has 
to be endured She dwells once again, with solemn insistence, 
ou the "aged sjrrow," the inheritance of evil transmitted 
from generation - gsnoration, an evil too intimately entwined 
with the complex conditions of society to be violently up. 
rooted but only to be gradually eradicated by the persistent 
cu tivation ot knowledge, industry, judgment, sobriety, and 
patience. ' ' 

" This is only one example," she says, « of the law by which 
human lives are linked together; another example of what we 
complain of when we point to our pauperism, to the brutal 
Ignorance of multitudes among our fellow-countrymen, to the 
weight of taxation laid on ua by blamable wars, to the waste- 
ful channels made for the public money, to the expense and 
trouble of getting justice, and call these the effects of bad rule 
This IS the law that we all bear the yoke of; the law of no 
man s making, and which no man can undo. Everybody now 
sees an example of it in the case of Ireland. We who are liv- 
ing now are sufferers by the wrong-doing of those who lived 
before us; we aie sufferers by each other's wrong-doing; and 
the children who come after us will be sufferers from the 
same causes." 

To remedy this long-standing wrong-doing and suffering, so 
argues Felix Holt, is not in the power of any one measure, 
class, or period. It would be childish folly to expect an^ 

,^^1 ? , i K''^'' '^' ""^"^^ P'"P«'*y "^"«by a sudden 
social transformation could be accomplished. On the contrary, 
abrupt transitions should he shunned as dangerous to ordi 
and law, which alone are certain to insure a steady coUective 
progress ; the only means to this end consisting in the general 



k^M^- 



FELIX HOLT AND MIDDLEMARCtt 



"~a, 0XZZ7 

engendering vice and misery But 1^ fZ^^^ °^ necessity 
edge, the working classes would te fble to H^ * '""" '"""'l- 
of men they should choose for tK '''"'*" '''>»* sort 

instead of electing "platform swaggerers whTh "'*"*"'=■ "■"» 
but the ocean to make our broth whh" til 7/ "' °°'"°» 
chief power to the hands of the tol v „i I "'^ """"^^^ 'J'* 
to regulate life " according to the rulf' '''"'^^''ol'nowhow 
m possession of." ^ *"'^'* principles mankind is 

which are bere 'theoreticaS"e,'!Se^"K"l *° "'^ '''"^ 
aptitude would enable him t^ cZ, ^is knowledge and 
higher calling. But he Tco^ns^^tr^ T^"* '» '=°°'Wered a 
•'getting on in the world ■ "his seuae of "fin' T''""" "»"«<» 
him to remain a simple artisaTthat L ^*"°"'«'"P Prompting 
influence on the class to whioT !« L^' ""^ ^«^' ^° «levatini 
80 argues this E^ic^-Con.L^ r '°u«'- ^^^ differences! 
constitution of sSy be. Zr''^'- •?'"» '"""^^nt in the 

withdrawwhatS^^l'TryrrSh:'^'"^'''""^ 
they are urgently needed in ordT J ° ! '°«'"n'n where 

selfish aims, some other 'b^^ of'' t^"^' *"' J^^ '^^' "^ 
superfluous. ^ ^ '"®° ^^^6™ they may be 

The other distinctive feature of ' Felix ffoH . 
elaborate construction, rankine it Jf^ , °°°"''' '° *'« 
tional novels. As a rule Geor™ ZJ^.^^! *"'°"8=* s^^^^- 
10 plot, the incident seemtXf' T''' ^^^^ ""'« » 
writer for the sake nf ,,;!!. °^ ^° °""='' invented by the 
natural Ct ot th S'°LT '''^'=""« ^°^''' ^ to 1^ the 
stance. This staplilv of ^"T ""^^'^'er and circum! 
highest class o^nteY tCZ'^Z'^"'^?'' °° -^o"!". *» the 
Wakefield,' 'Waveriey' and. V ! ^^^'•'"^ 'T^« Vicar of 
Holt,' how'ever, the intricate 7Zol^f- !!f'°°«- I" '^«1- 
characters seem to be enmP^h J ^^ "'''='''«''*« ^^ch the 
French art of ?tor^.tei,i„7w>^ <" J""'- ""^""^ ^^e modern 

is also the straSy Slent int "'"^:^.°^ '"^«"«'"'' <« 
ougeiy repellent intrigue which forms the nu- 



^2?««Km-/ 



I 



oxxxvi 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



cleus of the whole. All the elemento which go lo make up » 
thrilling narrative -such aa a dubious inheritance, the dis- 
appearance of the rightful claimant, a wife'a guilty secret, the 
involvements of the most desperate human fates in a perplex- 
mg coil through sin and error -are interwoven in this story 
of ' iehx Holt the Radical.' ^ 

Though ingeniously invented, the different incidents seem 
not so much naturally to have grown the one from the other 
as to be constructed with too conscious a seeking for effect 
There is something forced, uneasy, and inadequate in the 
lalx>rious contrivance of fitting one set of events on to another, 
and the machinery of the disputed Transome claim is so in' 
volved that the reader never masters the « ins " and « outs " 
of that baffling mystery. Still, the groundwork of the story 
13 deeply impressive : its interest is, notwithstanding the com- 
plex ramihcation of events, concentrated with much power 
upon a small group of personages, such as Mrs. Transome 
her son Harold the little dissenting minister, Eufus Lyon 
Esther and Felix Holt. Here, as elsewhere, the novelist re- 
veals the potent qualities of her genius. Not only does this 
story contain such genuine humorous portraiture as the lach- 
lymose Mrs. Holt, and the delightfully quaint Job Tudge. but 
It IS also enriched by some descriptions of rural scenery and 
of homely existence in remote country districts as admirable 
as any to be found in her writings. Kufus Lyon is a worthy 
addition to that long gallery of clerical portraits which are 
among the triumphs of George Eliot's art. This "singular- 
looking apostle of the meeting in Skipper's Lane " — with his 
rare purity of heart, his unworldliness, his zeal in the cause of 
dissent, his restless argumentative spirit, and the moving 
memories of romance and passion hidden beneath tha odd 
quaint ph,jsigue of the little minister encased in rusty black — 
13 among the most loving and lovable of characters, and recalls 
more particularly that passage in the poem entitled <A Minor 
Prophet, winch I cannot but think one of the author's finest, 
the passage beginning — ^ 

"T|i« pa"i<M exquisite of lovely minds 
Hid in harsh forms — not penetnitiug them 
Like fire divine within a common bnsh 
Which glows tnuisfignred by the heavenly gnest 



F^UX „OLT AND Mimu.,Ancu. „x„vii 

ness. This charming Esther thoZ ?"«»?<'"'»'"? 'ovell- 
her feminine vanitief and wi?i°°* ""Sinally without 
characters dear to George S^heT'T """ "^ "'"^^ 
allurements of an easy pleasurll '" ' ^'«' «"">unce the 

satisfactions of a noble loveTaSl!"'f''r ^ *•>« '"'sh" 
notice that Eppie, Esther P.h!i ^'^^'''- ^' " ''""ous to 

all children w^^ hkfe tei.^^tSl'f '''''"' ^^^'^'"''^ -« 
Parwtage, and that to all of Them '" '^"°'''"''* °^ *''«' --cal 
more or less difficult deci ion has to C- T'^ " """^ ^''«» '^ 
or evil they have to choose, once for aU W ' ^"""^ ^°' S°°^ 
mg claims. Like Eppie, Es h "r reiect^ h 7"'" '"° '"'"«'<''- 

fT" i°''r'' ""-^ «'^='' to share thetaH?;!"*^*'''' "^ •>*'"" 
the high-minded Felix. But Th r)i *"" <^'e"ificd life of 
even higher moral worth, becaue tlT ' ^' "^^^ """"-^ 
susceptible to the delicate refinemen^^ ^'^ '^" '" «° "^^^'r 
•which are the natural accompa;~ ^TIT''',"' "'^^'""''^^ 
_ The most curious feature of tM!.! , ""^ ''"'^ ^^^'th. 
>ts original treatment of inic^t n^ «• "^ x?"'"'"' P«'''^P'. in 
when handling this su^ect d p,S"fa,''°?"^'=' ^ ^'">«. 
contrast to the sufferings and ff fascinations in brilliant 

But George Eliot conSs her^e f with s^' '°"°" '" '*^ *-»• 
«de of the medal. Youth h^ fX t? •°^."' ^^' ''^'^'> 
turned to loathing, yet memorriik« o ' '"i^ ," ''^^'^' '"^« has 
the gray-haired Mrs. Come who Wd "''^/"■•^•P"""«^ 

such a heavy load of shame and dladlhr'^'" """ '"^^* 
S'ty with which this character^f tv ",. ^ P"''®' ^nd inten- 
wardly quailing woman is dr^^nl*^ ''^"s''*y. 'tern, yet in- 
and there is tragic horror inTAr^l'P''''''^ '" their way, 
from the vulgL, ^an seltom2;^^f fi°«=tsensibilitie^ 
skinned ever to know that in h^ol"' ''''^"- too thick- 
Judgment on her whose life ha.' irmfdrr/' " '. ''''^ 
""■ "^'^^ "°- *»P-ively than hr^ftCntS 



».*, 



3 



II 



ill 



cxxxriu OEOROE ELIOT. 

enforce her teaching that the deed follows the doer, being im- 
bued with an incalculable vitality of its own, shaping all after 
life, and subduing to its guise the nature that is in bondage to 
it Like those fabled dragon's teeth planted by Cadmus, 
which sprung up again as armed men, spreading discord and 
ruin, so a man's evil actions seem endowed with independ- 
ent volition, and their consequents "xtend far beyond the 
individual life where they originated. 

If 'Felix Holt' is the most intricately constructed of 
George Eliot's novels, ' Middlemaroh,' which appeared five 
years afterwards, is, on the other hand, a story without a plot. 
In fact, it seems hardly appropriate to call it a novel. Like 
Hogarth's serial pictures representing the successive stages in 
their progress through life of certain typical characters, so in 
this book there is unrolled before us, t. /f, 'o much the history 
of any particular individual, as a wLuje phase of society 
portrayed with as daring and uncompromising a fidelity to 
Nature as that of Hogarth himself. In 'Middlemaroh,' Eng- 
lish provincial life in the first half of the nineteenth century 
IS indelibly fixed in words " holding a universe impalpable" 
for the apprehension and delight of the furthest generations 
of English-speaking nations. Here, as in some kind of pano- 
rama, sections of a community and groups of character pass 
before the mind's eye. To dwell on the separate, strongly 
indmdualiied figures which constitute this great crowd would 
be impossible within the present Umits. But from the county 
people such as the Brookes and Chettams, to respectable 
middle-class families of the Vincy and Garth type, down to 
the low, avaricious, harpy-tribes of the Waules and Feather- 
stones, every unit of this complex social agglomeration is 
described with a life-like vividness truly amazing, when the 
number and variety of the characters especially are considered. 
I know not where else in literature to look for a work which 
leaves such a strong impression on the reader's mind of the 
intertextnre of human lives. Seen thus in perspective, each 
separate individuality, with its specialized consciousness, is 
yet as indissolubly connected with the collective life as that 
of the indistinguishable zobphyte which is but a sentient 
speck necessarily moved by the same vital agency which stirs 
the entire oreanism. 



nux HOW AND MIDDLEMARCH. 



—v". oxzxis 

Garth. I)oroth,i'beS^tWe"SvVne^1' ""* ^"^ 
»uoh 08 Bomola and Fe^lZTJZ:^ll^ °^ womanhood, 

cificall, George EHofa ttr'andt^'hi 'rTr *" "^ 'P^* 
common with such Greek ideX». a .• ^'^^^^ """^ « 
than with more moder^ httes But^C !;;' ^P'''««°^ 
10% her aspirations, haa not H.«rh„-.- ?"«>"'«». however 
or the antiq'ue devotio^ Tf Jl'dSa "sh "°'''" °' ^""''^ 
problematic natures already s»ken^?. Jn !> "'"' °^ *^°'«' 
oumstances, and never a»^V.^ . ' '"-adjusted to her cir- 

self. It is 'true thTher' h Jhli^'ri/?""''''"-'' ^ her- 
are partially stifled by a soil m^lf *u°"°"' Possibilities 
demand for them: sWl the loh, t '',^''" '^"^ »««"«• »° 
way in which to work <^u its destny """^ """'"'^ ^""^ ''°""' 

who^r '^trm^v^-o^- f -i "^- «»- born 

matched with the meanness of oTnlT T"""^ 8'^'"J«w i"- 
Mure which found n^Z^lTZ^ LT""' '^ '"'«''' 
oblivion. With dim lights and teli °. ^ '' ™''«P' i-"" 
tried to shape their thought afdlefj' ""■?r'"^°'=« ^^7 
but, after all, to common eyes thetr 1 ° "i°"' agreement , 

^^^rm the l^^^tZ^^^^ttrS^^:^ 

inc:SnrMltL?sTitfwl't "^^^ - -^^ *» t-e 
fashioned the natur s of womL if th ' ^"^'^"^ ^"'^^ ^»« 
feminine incompetence as striTa^ the rrr? °"* ^«^«' °* 
and no more, the social lo of wHn'^^t^j*" "°"°* *bree 
scientific certitude. Meanwhile the in^lfV*^ '™^'«<^ '^i'b 

Such a Ufe of mistakoq k t},.,^„t .i . ™rae. 

mi..raseg is that of the beautiful Dorothea, 



mi^i ^"^ mmnmmwM 



cxl 



OKOROK ELIOT. 



th. .Interred w.f. of Cwaubon. In hi. w.y the charwter 
of Guaubon ia oa great a triumph oa that of Tito himself 
The norelut seems to have crept into the inmost recewe. of 

^v^A n , I '''•«««"l7'""'y. and to lay bare before our eye. 
the dull labor of a bram whose ideas are still-born. In an arti- 
ole by Mr. Myers it is stated, however incredible it may sound 
that an undisoriminatir.g friend once condoled with Georg^ 
El.ot on the melancholy experience which, from her knowU 
edge of Lewes, had taught her to depict the gloomy character 
of Casaubon , whereas, in fact, there could not be a more 
staking contrast than that between the pedant groping amid 
dim fragment of knowledge, and the vivacious luJateur and 
thinker with his singular mental energy and grasp oi thought. 
On the novelist's laughingly assuring him that such was bv 
no means the case, "From whom, then," persisted he, "did 
you draw 'Casaubon' 7" With a humorous solemnity, which 
was quite in earnest, she pointed to her own heart. She con- 
fessed, on the other hand, having found the character of Ros- 
amond Vmoy difficult to sustain, such complacency of egoism as 
has been pointed out, being alien to her own habit of mind 
But she laid no claim to any such natural magnanimity as 
could avert Casaubon's temptations of jealous vanity, and bit- 
ter resentment. j. -"u uii- 

If there is any character in whom one may possibly trace 
.ome suggestions of Lewes, it is in the versatile, brilliant 
teleni^d Ladislaw, who held, that while genius must have 
the utmost play for its spontaneity, it may await with con- 
fidence "those messages from the universe which summon it 
to Its pecuhar work, only placing itself in an attitude of reoen- 
tivity towards all sublime chances." But however oharminr 
the impression Ladislaw produces is that of a somewhat shal- 
low, frothy character, so that he seems almost as iU-fitted for 
Dorothea as the dreary Casaubon himself. Indeed, the hero- 
me 8 second marriage seems almost as much a failure as the 
shiltifying union of Lydgate with Rosamond Vincy, and ha^ 
altogether a more saddening effect than the tragic dTath^ 
Maggie which is how much less pitiful than that deathin life 

We'birkri^CtsXtr "^^ -^^ ^"^ ''^' ™^ 



FELIX HOLT AND MII,„I,k„arcH. cxU 

ofaom.tliingre,embH„J * " '''P<'<="t<'. but has avdn 

able vioar of St S,?', nf xr' ''T""' 8*""''''''>' bonor- 
tongued, witty, medS «„ „ 'a S .^t""?"';""' '"« ^'"^ 
of high life /of Caleb Garth "hof!'Hr''°' **"• ^"J"" 
religion, and whose likeness ta Zr u k °"°° *" ^°'k '« a 
been pointed out; o th" "l^le hi. f^'' ^"""' '"«' a'^"''/ 
of many other aupVcmeJ ^rv id cit ' '^r"''" *'"y' ""^ 
to would carry us too far ""a'-^t^". "horn to do justice 

the aspiration, and clearformu at " h ' f """'" '°'^»"'« 
of the nineteenth century Tr 1 '"'""""''■ "' "'« ^-omen 
the stereotyped theory about worn w"^ 'k"""'.'" """"''""' »» 
-ide her syn^pathies ^e^er^ZT'ZZV'T, "".""''='' 
more partial to the educations m„ ^ '^'■°'«' ^be wa3 

agitation which aims at see„ 'i- *'^''°'' - '" "''' """^ 
ment of wo„>en. How si .cerelv »^ '■'"^ ^'^'''' ^^f^'-^hise- 
3 -bown by the donatf H^V^'KroX'"' ''I '•^^'^ 
'KomoN.'" when Girton PnllLJ^ / " ""^ ""'bor of 
alette,, a young ^ wfttudr/M' ''"''''•*• ^""^ '" 

career she w J ^uufhTnLltrtlaS""^ " """« 
of Girton is very satisfactory" a ^l' ^' Prosperity 

friends, too, werJsomi of 7c' ndfe^wh^n 'l"."?'"' """"''^ 
organized the Women's SuffrLi tn .^"^ ""'''"«'' ""■» 

i»g to Miss Phelps she tlhZT. TZ''^' ^"'«'^"« "'it- 
in Boston, and rema ksp„ni *°..'^' ^°'"'"''' Lectureship 
office that may r^kB ! "^ ""^ "^'^ University: "An 

which is at :LTer:?erar::'^"' '" '°f' ""-'-. atd 
tried. America iltlfe s«^H ^T"""""' *'"" °"Sbt to be 
where they can^^l i^rf:? '""^^ ■""> ""'»^ry of new ideals, 
In 1871 fC V ^^'■' ^™«r air than ours." 

v^'^Zi'i'it:::iz ;rtThf' ^-^ -^^-'-^ ^" 

months at ShottermillVa quaint Ha™ v''""?. ""'' """""«' 
amid a landscape that unit^sCtfes ofthr '" '^' """"^-^ 
He™ we may imagine her al:^ Mr ^2^: Z r'"^"''- 
work was done, either seeking the ya^t It^ ' Tth :nd 



ozUi 



GEORGE ELIOT. 






common only bounded by the horizon, or strolling through 
the deep-sunk lanes, or finding a soothing repose in " places 
of nestling green for poets made." They had rented Brook- 
bank, an old-fashioned cottage with tiled roof and lattice- 
paned windows, belonging to Mrs. Gilchrist, the widow of 
the distinguished biographer of William Blake. 

The description of Mrs. Moyrick's house in ' Daniel Deronda ' 
"where the narrow spaces of wall held a world-histoty in 
scenes and heads," may have been suggested by her present 
abode, rich in original drawings by Blake, and valuable prints, 
and George Eliot writes : " If I ever steal anything in my life, 
I think it will be the two little Sir Joshuas over the drawing- 
room mantelpiece." At this time she and Mr. Lewes also 
found intense interest in reading the ' Life of Blake.' Some 
correspondence, kindly placed at my disposal by Mrs. Gil- 
christ, passed between this lady and the Leweses in connec- 
tion with the letting of the house, giving interesting glimpses 
into the domesticities of the latter. Their habits here, as in 
London, were of clock-work regularity, household arrange- 
ments being expected to run on wheels. "Everything," 
writes George Eliot, "goes on slowly at Shottermill, and the 
mode of narration is that typified in ' This is the house that 
Jack built.' But there is an exquisite stillness in the sun- 
shine and a sense of distance from London hurry, which 
encourages the growth of patience. 

"Mrs. G 's " (their one servant) "pace is proportionate 

to the other slownesses, but she impresses me as a worthy 
person, and her cooking — indeed, all her attendance on us — 
is of satisfactory quality. But we find the awkwardness 
of having only one person in the house, as well as the advan- 
tage (this latter being ouietude). The butcher does not bring 
the meat, everybody grudges selling new milk, eggs are 
scarce, and an expedition we made yesterday in search of 
fowls showed us nothing more hopeful than some chickens 
six weeks old, which the good woman observed were some- 
times ' eaten by the gentry with asparagus." Those eccentric 
people, the gentry I 

" But have we not been reading about the siege of Paris all 
the winter^ and shall we complain while we get excellent 



■ 



mmm^- j^^i^^f-j m. 



FELIX HOLT AND MIDDLEMAHCH. cxliii 

bread and batter and many etceteras 7 . . . Mrs.S kindly 

sent us a dish of asparagus, which we ate (without the 

skinny chicken) and had a feast. 
" You wiU imagine that we are as fond of eating as Friar 
•1, T .'"° enlarging so on our commissariat But vou 

will also infer that we hare no great evUs to complain of. 

since I make so much of the small." 

George Eliot rarely went out in the daytime during her 
stay at ShottermiU, but in the course of her rambles she 
would sometimes visit such cottagers in remote places as 
were not likely to know who she was. She used also to go 
and see a farmer's wife living at a short distance from Brook- 
bank, with whom she would freely chat about the growth of 
fruits and vegetables and the quality of butter, much to the 
astonishment of the simple farm people. Speaking of her 
recollection of the great novelist to an American lady by 
whom these facts are recorded, the old countrywoman re- 
marked: "It were wonderful, just wonderful, the sight o' 
green peas that I sent down to that gentleman and lady 
every week." ' 

After the lapse of a few months spent in this sweet rural 
retreat, George Ehot again writes to Mrs. Gilchrist: "I did 
not imagine that I should ever be so fond of the place as 
I am now. The departure of the bitter winds, some improve- 
ment m my health, and the gradual revelation of fresh and 
fresh beauties in the scenery, especially under a hopeful sky 
such as we have sometimes had -all these conditions have 
made me love our little worid here, and wish not to quit it 
until we can settle in our London home. I have the regret 
of thinking that it was my original indifference about it (I 
hardly ever like things until they are familiar) that hindered 
us from securing the cottage until the end of September " 

George Eliot's conscientiousness and precision in the small 
affairs of life are exemplified in her last note to Mrs. Gil- 
christ :" After Mr. Lewes had written to you, I was made 
aware that a small dessert or bread-and-butter dish had been 
broken. That arch-sinner, the cat, was credited with the 

guilt. I am assured by Mrs. G that nothing else has 

been injured during her reign, and Mrs. L confirmed the 



^.^-^-^^i^miLd 



cxliv 



" "^R rk 



OEORQE ELIOT. 



Statement to me yesterday. I wish I could replace the unfoi- 

tunate dish This note, of course, needs no answer, and 

It 13 intended simply to make me a clean breast about the 
crockery." 

About this time George Eliot was very much out of health : 
indeed, both she and Lewes repeatedly speak of themselves 
as two nervous, dyspeptic creatures, two ailing, susceptible 
bodies, to whom slight inconveniences are injurious and 
upsetting. Although it was hot summer weather, Mrs. Lewes 
suffered much from cold, sitting always with artificial heat to 
her feet. One broiling day in August, after she had left 
Brookbank, and taken another place in the neighborhood, an 
acquaintance happaning to eaU on her, found her sitting in 
the garden writing, as was her wont, her head merely shaded 
by a deodora, on the lawn. Being expostulated with by her 
visitor for her imprudence in exposing herself to the full 
blaze of the midday sun, she replied, «0h, I like it I To-day 
IS the first time I have felt warm this summer." 

They led a most secluded life, George Eliot being at this 
time engaged with the continuation of ' Middlemarch : ' and 
Lewes, alluding to their solitary habits, writes at this date : 
Work goes on smoothly away from all friendly interruptions 
Lord Houghton says that it is incomprehensible how we can 
live in such Simeon Stylites fashion, as we often do, all alone 
— but the fact U we never are alone when alone. And I 
sometimes marvel how it is I have contrived to get through 
so much work living in London. It's true I'm a London 
child. Occasionally, however, they would go and see Tenny- 
son, whose house is only three miles from ShottermO but 
the road being all uplUl made the ride a little tedious and 
uncomfortable, especially to George Eliot who had not got 
over her old nervousness. The man who used to drive them 
on these occasions was so much struck by this that he told the 
lafly who has recorded these details in the Century Magazine ■ 
"Withal her being such a mighty clever body, she were very 
nervous in a carriage — allays wanted to go on a smooth road, 
aud seemed dreadful feared of being thrown out. ' On one 
of these occasional meetings with Tennyson, the poet got 
involved in a conversation with the novelist concerning evolu- 



"M 



Mmm^^-'^v^i^^-m **^^' '^ '^81 



DANIEL DERONDA. exlv 

toJ^tW '""'I ''"*''*^ questions. They had been walking 
«5^ ^°A°°' ^8"°'«°t. and as the Poet-Larireate bad! 
w^f !f J^?'''"' •'^ ''^I'^'l *° her, already makkg^r 

^wlv« If ? ^^ •r''' r*^ '" ^" <^««P 1°^ ^oioe (which 
always got lower when she was at all roused), "I am Quite 
content with my molecules." ^ 

The country all around ShottermiU with its breezy uDlanda 

heaK'l^r'^^L"^""''^ ''^'^ °^ landpuTpKh 
Q^ort« F,W K ■"".' "^T" """« '^'"1 """'^ ^■"ieared to 
George Ehot, who, indeed, liked it better than any scenery in 
England. Here she could enjoy to the full that "sense of 
S V\^™""'^ world," which, she writes to Mrs. Gil- 
chnst who had used the phrase, "was precisely what she 
most cared for amongst out-ofnioor delights." Some years 
afterwards we find her and Mr. Lewes permanently tSg 

kind o/r !^f' "' "^"'^y '" «""«y' ^^^'^^ J«« *!•« «amf 
kmd of beautiful open scenery. Writing from her town resi- 

We too, are thinking of a new settling down, for we have 
a S envT» " S"™ V'""' ^°"'- """- f™" GodL: ng :: 
mr? ^th r t ""'^- °"' P™=«°' •''«'» i' that we shall 

.rT J X • , ^^^' '^ "^ *he same line of railway with 
some good friends at Weybric^ge and Guildford." ^ 



CHAPTER XIV. 

DANIEI, DERONDA. 

dkmal^r'^^""'"'^''/''''''' ^PP"''™'^ five years after 'Mid- 

affinity wTth'Th«t '"T!^' '"' /* '^^ P^'h^ps the closest 
amnity with 'The Spanish Gypsy.' Speaking of this work 

Geori°EUo't fTv °' 'r^'' "*'"='^^" ('" whose career 
txeorge Ehot felt keen interest), she expressed surprise at the 



oslvi 



OGOROE ELIOT. 



amazement which her choice of a subject had created. "I 
wrote about the Jews," she remarked, "because I consider 
them a fine old race who have done great things for humanity. 
I feel the same admiration for them as I do for the Floren- 
tines. Only lately I have heard to my great satisfaction that 
an influential member of the Jewish community is going to 
start an emigration to Palestine. You will also be glad to 
learn that Helmholtz is a Jew." 

These observations are valuable as affording a key to the 
leading motive of ' Daniel Deronda.' Mordecai's ardent desire 
to found a new national state in Palestine is not simply the 
author's dramatic realization of the feeling of an enthusiast, 
but expresses her own very definite sentiments on the subject. 
The Jewish apostle is, in fact, more or less the mouthpiece of 
George Eliot's own opinions on Judaism. For so great a 
master in the art of creating character, this type of the 
loftiest kind of man is curiously unreal. Mordecai delivers 
himself of the most eloquent and exalted views and senti- 
ments, yet his own personality remains so vague and nebulous 
that it has no power of kindling the imagination. Mordecai 
is meant for a Jewish Mazziui, Within his consciousness he 
harbors the future of a people. He feels himself destined to 
become the savior of his race ; yet he does not convince us of 
his greatness. He convinces us no more than he does the 
mixed company at the "Hand and Banner," which listens with 
pitying incredulity to his passionate harangues. Nevertheless 
the first and final test of the religious teacher or of the social 
reformer is the magnetic force with which his own intense 
beliefs become binding-on the consciences of others, if only of 
a few. It is true Mordecai secures one disciple — the man 
dertined to translate his thought into action, Daniel Deronda, 
as shadowy, as puppet-like, as lifeless as Ezra Mordecai Cohen 
himself. These two men, of whom the one is the spiritual 
leader and the other the hero destined to realize his aspi- 
rations, are probably the two most unsuccessful of George 
Ehot's vast gallery of characters. They are the representa- 
tives of an idea, but the idea has never been made flesh. A 
succinct expression of it may be gathered from the following 
passage: 



•IbJP t 



DANIEL DERONDA. 



oxlvii 



no de^"" R °' *'1'''"°« ^""y *>>« I^'-i °f Judaism is 
Isrlol wiinh r'' *"!.' °u«"""' '=«°*'«-- l«t the unity "f 
rlT. ^'""^''^s^'^ade the growth and form of its relig- 
ion be an outward reality. Looking towards a land a^^i 

ir f^ °"; '•"P"""* P^°P'« •" ^" *•■« «nds of the earth Zy 
share the d.g^ity of a national life which has a yo>oe am"ne 

wisdom and skill of our race, so that it may be. as of old a 
totsTandthTr'""" ''\' -derstanding' Let that co,;: 

ness of thTri' r^'f "°'" '•" ^*"»h' •>°' '" the law^rs- 
ness of the renegade, but • the illumination of great facte 
which widen feeling, and .^e all knowledge alfve as th^ 
young offspring of belove. memories" 

This notion that the Jews should return to Palestine in a 
Wy, and once more constitute themselves into a dLtinct 
nation, is curiously repugnant to modem feelings Is epug 

ZtTJ^ """ T'"°'' "^'"•' '' '^^ ""Pl-I inthe book, 
steictly adhering to their own race in marriage -at least 
Mirah the most faultless of George Eliot's h^oines whot 
character expresses the noblest side of Judaism, "is a Jewess 
who will not accept any one but a Jew " '» a Jewess 

Mirah Lapidoth and the Princess Halm-Eberstein, Deronda's 

two t"''rJr"i"'*' *'' "'"'""^ p"'p°»« °^ «°"f-«'g 

two types of Jewish women. Whereas the latter strictlv 

ifw ZiTe^'b ''f' '"' ""''' "'""*« obseillt'sTh^ 
Hebrew father, breaks away from the "bondage of havine 

eyen m dis^^ku of her Jewisn origin," clings with inviolable 



0x1 via 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



^^', 




tenacity to the memory of that origin and to the fellowship of 
her people. The author leaves one in little doubt as to which 
side her own sympathies incline towards. She is not so much 
the artist here, impartially portraying different kinds of 
characters, as the special pleader proclaiming that one set of 
motives are righteous, just, and praiseworthy, as well as that 
tne others are mischievous and reprehensible. 

This seems carrying the principle of nationality to an 
extreme, if not pernicious length. If there were never any 
breaking up of old forms of society, any fresh blending of 
natioualities and races, we should soon reduce Europe to 
another China. This unwavering faithfulness to the traditions 
of the past may become a curse to the living. A rigidity as 
unnatural as it is dangerous would be the result of too tenacious 
a olinging to inherited memories. For if this doctrine were 
strictly carried out, such a country as America, where there is 
a slow amalgamation of many allied and even heterogeneous 
races into a new nation, would practically become impossible. 
Indeed, (^orge Eliot does not absolutely hold these views. 
She considers them necessary at present in order to act as a 
drag to the too rapid transformations of society. In the most 
interesting paper of ' Theophrastus Such,' that called ' The 
Modern Hep I Hep 1 Hep I' she remarks: "The tendency of 
things 13 towards quicker or slower fusion of races. It U im- 
possible to arrest this tendency j all we can do is to moderate 
ite course so as to hinder it from degrading the moral status 
of societies by a too rapid effacement of those national 
traditions and customs which are the language of the national 
genius - the deep suckers of healthy sentiment. Such mod- 
eratmg and guidance of inevitable movement is worthy of all 

Considering that George Eliot was convinced of this modem 
tendency towards fusion, it is all the more singular that she 
should in < Daniel Deronda,' have laid such stress on he 
reconstruction, after the lapse of centuries, of a Jewish state : 
singular, when one considers that many of the most eminent 
Jews, so far from aspiring towards such an event, hardlv 
seem to have contemplated it as a desirable or possible 
prospect. The sympathies of Spinoza, the Mendelssohns, 



#r4l 



DANIEL DERONDA. oilix 

Indeed, to have a true conception of Jewish nature and 

1^^".' fu "' ^""^"* ^^«^^ =""1 deep shadows of S 
pathos, depth, sublimity, degradation, and wit oHto infin te 

ZhZ:''\^''T'' ""P'^^'y for 'suffering!- one ig^ 
^ZTj^LT"" '^^t' ^"""^' '" 'Jehudrben! 
K^rsl,-— l^Sch^^^^^^^^^^^ 
I^bs^'tr^frhrr^--' ^-'^^ ^-e =£ 

X^jrh^rscizr "^t;r i£f f r- 

St *^"'*' ""'^'^ "^ PerfecSrCondatd Mi^r :^; 
woud have so mixed her colors as to give us t^t subtl! 

Ind iXT-wn /' f"*^ '° *^' "^"'^'^'^ of nature's making 
^rraVaTauSlTrr:: ^""' ^ ^^««^«' «"- »^--' 
„n™ '"°i°^ '? ""^ ^"Klish portion of the story there is at 
aZr'TrF^''^ °^ spontaneity in the peopfe depi ed 
Grandcourt, Gaseoigne, Bex, Mrs. Davilow, SirHugh Mat 

Kvoh„?n''"f"^ ^7'"'°''"'' «'"'" *" t'^e old cuuning in 
tne psychological rendering of human nah™ n • I 

there is no intrinsic connection befweenthZupToeZ 
clustering round Mordecai, and that of wWcf GwenL^^^- 
^centre : unless it be that the author :Lhed t Thot ° h" 
greater intensity of aim and higher moral worth ol the 



ol 



OEOBOE ELIOT. 



i ! 



Jews as contrasted with these purposeless, worldly, unideal 
Christians of the nineteenth century. 

Compared with the immaculate Mirah, Gwendolen Harleth 
is a very naughty, spoiled, imperfect specimen of maiden- 
hood. But she has life in her; and one speculates as to what 
she will say and do next, as if she were a person among one's 
acquaintances. On that account most -eaders of 'Daniel 
Deronda ' find their interest engrossed by the fate of Gwen- 
dolen, and the conjugal relations between her and Orandcourt. 
This is so much the case, that one suspects her to have been 
the first idea of the story. She is at any rate its most attrac- 
tive feature. In Gwendolen, George Eliot once remarked, she 
had wished to draw a girl of the period. Fascinating, accom- 
plished, of siren-like beauty, she has every outward grace 
combined with a singular inward vacuity. The deeper 
aspects of life are undreamed of in her philosophy. Her 
religion consists in a vague awe of the unknown and invisible, 
and her ambition in the acquisition of rank, wealth, and 
personal distinction. She is selfish, vain, frivolous, worldly, 
domineering, yet not without sudden impulses of generosity, 
and jets of affection. Something there is in her of Undine 
before she had a soul — something of a gay, vivacious, unfeel- 
ing sprite, who recks nothing of human love or of human 
misery, but looks down with utter indifTerence on the poor 
humdrum mortals around her, whom she inspires at once with 
fear and fondness: something, also, of the "princess in 
exile, who in time of famine was to have her breakfast-roll 
made of the finest bolted flour from the seven thin ears of 
wheat, and in a general decampment was to have her silver 
fork kept out of the baggage." 

How this bewitching creature, whose "iridescence of charac- 
ter" makes her a psychological problem, is gradually brought 
to accept Henleigh Grandoourt, in spite of the promise she 
has given to Lydia Glasher (his discarded victim), and her 
own fleeting presentiments, is described with an analytical 
subtlety unsurpassed in George Eliot's works. So, indeed, 
is the whole episode of the married life of Grandcourt. This 
territorial magnate, who possesses every worldly advantage 
that Gwendolen desired, is worthy, as a study of character, 



M f': 



DANIEL DEBONDA. 



eU 



to be placed beside that of Casaubon himself. Gwendolen's 
girlish type of egoism, which loves to be the centre of admi- 
ration, here meets with that far other deadlier form of an 
"exorbitant egoism," conspicuous for its intense obstinacy 
and tenacity of rule, "in proportion as the varied suscepti- 
bilities of younger years are stripped away." This cold, nega- 
tive nature lies with a kind of withering blight on the sus- 
ceptible Gwendolen. Boused from the complacent dreams of 
girlhood by the realities of her married life, shrinking in 
helpless repulsion from the husband whom she meant to 
manage, and who holds her as in a vice, the unhappy woman 
has nothing to cling to in this terrible inward collapse of her 
happiness, but the man, who, from the first moment when his 
eye arrests hers at the gaming table at Leubronn, becomes, as 
it were, a conscience visibly incarnate to her. This incident, 
which is told in the first chapter of the novel, recalls a sketch 
by Dante Eossetti, where Mary Magdalene, in the flush of 
joyous life, is held by the Saviour's gaze, and in a sudden 
revulsion from her old life, breaks away from companions 
that would fain hold her back, with a passionate movement 
towards the Man of Sorrow. This impressive conception may 
have unconsciously suggested a somewhat similar situation to 
the novelist, for that George Eliot was acquainted with this 
drawing is shown by the following letter addressed in 1870 
to Dante Bossetti: 

" I have had time now to dwell on the photographs. I am 
especially grateful to you for giving me the head marked June 
1861: It 18 exquisite. But I am glad to possess every one of 
them. The subject of the Magdalene rises in interest for me, 
the more I look at it. I hope you will keep in the picture an 
equally passionate type for her. Perhaps you will indulge 
me with a little talk about the modifications you intend to 
introduce." 

The relation of Deronda to Gwendolen is of a Christlike 
nature. He is her only moral hold in the fearful temptations 
that assail her now and again under the intolerable irritations 
of her married lite, temptations which grow more urgent 
when Grandcourt leads his wife captive, after his fashion, in 
a yacht on the Mediterrancw, For " the intensest form of 



M^ 



olii 



OEOROE EUOT. 



hatred U that rooted in fear, which oompeU to .ilence, and 
driven Tehemenoe into a constructive vindictireness, ai^ im- 
aginary anmh.lat.on of the detested object, something like 
the hidien rites of vengeance, with which the pers^uted 
have made a dark vent for their rage, and soothed their suf- 
fering into numbness. Such hidden rites went on in the 
secrecy ot Gwendolen's mind, but not with soothing effect - 
rather with the effect of a struggling terror. Side by side 
with dread of her husband had grown the self-dread which 
urged her to flee from the pursuing images wrought by her 
pent-up impulse." o / "'» 

. The evil wish at last finds fulfilment, the murderous thought 

,L°uTl^'^!^'""'; ^"^ '^""R** '^«*"' " °°' eventually ?he 
result of the cnmmal desire, it yet seems to the unhappy wife 
IS if It had a determining power in bringing about the catas- 
trophe. But It IS precisely this remorse which is the redeem- 
ing quality of her nature, and awakens a new life within her 
in this quickening of the moral consciousness through euilt 
we are remiuded, although in a different manner, of a similar 
process, full of pregnant suggestions, described in Nathaniel 
Hawthorne's 'Transformation.' It will be remembered that 
Donatello leads a purely instinctive, that is to say, animal, 
existence, till the commission of a crime awakens the dormant 
conscience, and a soul is bom in the throes of anguish and 
remorse. 

' In Daniel Deronda' there is an entire absence of that rich 
genial humor which seemed spontaneously to bubble up and 
overflow her earlier works. Whether George Eliot's concep- 
tion of the Jews as a peculiarly serious race had any share in 
bringing about that result, it is difficult to say. At any rate 
in one of her essays she remarks that. "The history and 
literature of the ancient Hebrews gives the idea of a oeonle 
who went about their business and pleasure as gravelVasa 
society of beavers." Certainly Mordecai, Derond^ and Mirah 
are preternaturally solemn; even the Cohen family are not 
presented with any of those comic touches one would have 

tfllZ •" *5",f «^* ''r°"«'; °"ly in the boy Jacob there 
are gleams of drollery such as in this description of him by 
Hans Meynck: "He treats me with the easiest famili^tj^ 



DANIEL DEROKnA. 



•uu 



disadvantage. w4 a ?«^k„°r '^.P"""' """"kiug on my 

change in him if Alirah hann«n. I P'*"^'', ""'"gh. to «ee the 
suddenly _ hi, a« ^n^flT.?- J° "'"°"' '"• «» t"™, child 
r.r«liti'ah garUfu iX^«ei"p:?,\" ""^ ""'' «"> 
with an air of recent product?on^ ^ ^' '"" '°'*^' y"' 

"had thei Httle^ddU r si'l'^''^'/ ''*"»'"^ 8"°?' "h^ 
mother's blood as weU ithe t^h^' ."^r.'"'*"'"'^ ^^m the 
medieval houses wUhure,totel,t'« ""'^ T'""" '^'"^ "^e 
this into thali flights of stens and °1 """^ T"'"!^ *«"° 
the whole, instead of the oIH ^ " °""°°'"- «"' °° 

Deronda-; polXd^rnnt J ^"'"'"'' '^^ ^^^ in 'Daniel 
were afte^a^:^';"! rr^ullv'Tv"?""'.'" -""«--., which 
Bions of Theophrastns 8u™h' ^ ^°^^ '" "•« 'I">P™»- 

ingX^t^ iu^fcL^lgSnrhr ^"^ '^« ^°»- 

" I don't know what you refer ^1^''°.' " '***f" ^ Mrs. Bray : 
haps the report of Dr^ He7,Sn^Adlei' ff* ^'^''^^ ^"- 
to the Jewish working-men ^Vent the r- ""^ °^ '^"'°"^''' 
Dr. Adler whom you saw is nl V T"""" P^^^bly the 

as Chief Eabbi. I Save hL»; ?,""?' ^*'^"' "«" "ving 
from Jews and Jewesles^th .?.'''«''""' communicationf 
the Club scene in *DD ^IstirTt '^''""^- ^"'"^ 
tongue through the varbus Lw* ''^"' '" "^^ "^''"'w 
been copying thr'M^eI° in ^^ .^^^'P^P*"' ""ch have 
sent to me U^^e mS^ 1 The/ '''"^'^''°" ^^ ^'^^ 
indifferent to themselves " "' ""'""^'y ^"> »»' 

losophers out a el^ws so 1m, i" *''*u' °*'""" <='"'' "^ P"" 
in the ^or.„ij4 S^\7f8^//««"'''«d by G. H. LeCes 

to detect an ^ffiity l^reen the Jew Coh7n I*""'"* °°* 
sumptive journeyman watchmaker, with ht'^J ^' '=°°; 
his great calm intellect, and Ezra Morfeoai Co^.n • ^°"^- "^"^ 
-liar conditions, the difference CtXttZ' Z'u^tl 



OliT 



OBOROB BLIOT. 



tntod bjr the philoiophioal idea of Spinoziim, and the other 
by the political idea of reoonitituting a Jewish State ia 
Paleitine. This diSerenoe of mental biaa, no doubt, formi a 
contrast between the two characters, without, however, invali- 
dating the surmise that the fictitious enthusiast may have been 
originally suggested by the noble figure of the living Jew. B« 
that as it may, Lewes often took the opportunity in conver- 
sation of "pointing out that no such resemblance existed, 
Cohen being a keen dialectician and a highly impressive 
man, but without any specifically Jewish entli fiasm." 

When she undertook to write about the Jews, Oeorge Eliot 
was deeply versed in Hebrew literature, ancient and modem. 
She had taught herself Hebrew when translating the Leben 
Jem, and this knowledge now stood her in good stead. She 
was also familiar with the splendid utterances of Jehuda-ben- 
Halevyj with the visionary speculations of the Cabbalists, 
and with the brilliant Jewish writers of the Hispano-Arabio 
epoch. She had read portions of the Talmud, and remarked 
one day in conversation that Spinoza had really got something 
from the Cabbala. On her friend humbly suggesting that by 
ordinary accounts it appeared to be awful nonsense, she said 
" that it nevertheless contained fine ideas, like Plato and the 
Old Testament, which, however, people took in the lump, 
being accustomed to them." 



CHAPTEB XV. 



LAST YEAB8. 



' Daniel Debonda ' is the last great imaginative work with 
which George Eliot was destined to enrich the world. It 
came out in small volumes, the appearance of each fresh num- 
ber being hailed as a literary event. In allusion to an au- 
thor's feeling on the conclusion of a weighty task, George 
Eliot remarks in one of her letters : " As to the great novel 
which remains to be written, I must tell you that I never be- 
lieve in future books. . . . Always after finishing a book I 
liave a period of despair that I can never again produce any- 



I^KT riARB. 



otT 



Urilf/^^w 'k'"'*" **"!. r"**- ^" «»pon.ibility of the 
writer grows hwvier and heavier - doe. U not ?_ a. the 

work grow, into imperiou. activity within one, that it i. doZ 

Uieworld-Iineanpo..ibletoone's.elftodoit." 

Thi. .rngular diffidence, arising from a .ense of the tre 
mendou. responsibility which her position enU^ld wa. Z 
of the most noticeable charaoteristio. of this greai w^nT 

.«U„h" """^ T."^" '^'"^ '» ''°""«" -i'h her HerZ: 
wientiousness made her even painfully anxious to enter sym- 

U>twLn^tLt'A ^ • "" ■»'««''«"'. for "ample, as that 
ftetween Goethe and Heme -where the younger poet after 

«dir*'^l'5V{ ''•"'* «'"' "'■"K" to sayto G^he, wL 

Zl^n?M ^ *tl"^?""' ■""* ^''™" "'^'O remarkably 

reSonrwWhT"'"' "^ '^*'"* °'=^'' ^" Sunday afternoon 
Zt oH^wv '*?'°! °'°"' """i """'^ fashionable as time 

wwt f ■ *° *''*' ■""« snP«rfioially brilliant talk 

which a promiscuous gathering brings with it Among the 

PrioTmav'j'"'"'!-*" •? "*' """"' °' •-" f-1»enS; 1 th 
Pnopr may be mentioned Mr. Herbert Spencer, Professor 
Huxley, Mr. Frederic Harrison, Professor Bees y Dr 3 
Mrs. Congreve, Madame Bodichon, Lord Houghton M 
Tourgu^nief. Mr. Ealston, Sir The-ldore and Lady Martfn 

Gallery, Mr. George Howard and his wife, Mr. C. G. Leland 
Mr. Moncure Conwiy, Mr. Justin McCarthy, Dr. Hu^ffer Mr 
and Mrs. Buxton Porraan, Mr. F. Myers, Mr. Sully Mr Du 
Manner, Mr. and Mrs. Mark Pattiso^ Mr. and Mrs CHffofd 
tts^M^fr/"' ''*' ''''"8'>'«"' Mr. and m's S 



olvi 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



M 



I - 



Persons of celebrity were not the only ones, however, that 
were made welcome at the Priory. The liveliest sympathy 
was shown by both host and hostess in many young people as 
yet struggling in obscurity, but in whom they delighted to 
recognize the promise of some future excellence. If a young 
man were pursuing some original scientific inquiry, or strik- 
ing out a new vein of speculation, in all London there was 
none likely to enter with such zest into his ideas as G. H. 
Lewes. His generous appreciation of intellectual gifts is well 
shown in the following lines to Professor W. K. Clifford : 

" Few things have given us more pleasure than the intima- 
tion in your note that you had a nncie. May she be the central 
happiness and motive force of your career, and, by satisfying 
the affections, leave your rare intellect free to work out its 
glorious destiny. For, if you don't become a glory to your age 
and time, it will be a sin and a shame. Nature does n't often 
send forth such gifted sons, and when she does, Society usu- 
ally cripples them. Nothing but marriage — a happy marriage 
— has seemed to Mrs. Lewes and myself wanting to your 
future." 

On the Sunday afternoon receptions just mentioned, G, H. 
Lewes acted, so to speak, as a social cement. His vivacity, 
his ready tact, the fascination of his manners, diffused that gen- 
eral sense of ease and abandon so requisite to foster an harmoni- 
ous flow of conversation. He was inimitable as a raconteur, 
and Thackeray, Trollope, and Arthur Helps were fond of 
quoting some of the stories which he would dramatize in the 
telling. One of the images which, on these occasions, recurs 
oftenest to George Eliot's friends, is that of the frail-looking 
woman who would sit with her chair drawn close to the fire, 
and whose winning womanliness of bearing and manners 
struck every one who had the privilege of an introduction to 
her. Her long, pale face, with its strongly marked features, 
was less rugged in the mature prime of life than in youth, 
the inner meanings of her nature having worked themselves 
more and more to the surface, the mouth, with its benignant 
suavity of expression, especially softening the too prominent 
under-lip and massive jaw. Her abundant hair, untinged 
with gray, -vhose smooth bands made a kind of frame to the 



LAST YEARS. 



Clyii 



than one of wo'Snt ThT T.^ °' ^''^^"^ '*f°'« """^ 

ambition to swak ZrvT ^""^^^^ l^'^ents "the general 
which msZ'otltZ'ZZ T^T '°°''" ^-Klish, 
slang, false foXn'^^ZZ'^^l' ^ """"Pt-S witll 
crashes out all color from thlr^' f . i-'O^unoiation that 
jostling conson^ts .' ^"^'' "^^ ^'"°' *''««' ' ^^<->« 

observer ofhuJn" nTt^""fn.:rLi1 W '^^"^''■' "^ ''«^° 
indication of the infinite^enTh of h«, !k """^^'y*'' '"' 

the force of her entire ™™niT"!u^^"° """^ ''*™'=k by 



clviii 



OEOROE IXIOT. 



.3 ! :; 

m 



u 



deeply impressed her hearers, being enriched by such felici- 
ties of expression as : "The best lesson of tolerance we have 
to learn is to tolerate intolerance." In answer to a friend's 
surprise that a clever man should allow himself to be con- 
tradicted by a stupid one, without dropping down on him, 
she remarked: "He is very liable to drop down as a baked 
apple would." And of a very plain acquaintance she said : 
"He has the most dreadful kind of ugliness one can be 
afSicted with, because it takes on the semblance of beauty." 
Poetry, music, and art naturally absorbed much attention 
at the Priory. Here Mr. Tennyson has been known to read 
'Maud' aloud to his friends Mr. Browning expatiated on 
the most recondite metrical rules : and Bossetti sent presents 
of poems and photographs. In the following unpublished 
letters George Eliot thanks the latter for his valued gifts — 
" We returned only the night before last from a two months' 
journey to the Continent, and among the parcels awaiting 
me I found your generous gift. I am very grateful to yon 
both as giver and poet. 

" In cutting the leaves, while my head is still swimming 
from the journey, I have not resisted the temptation to read 
many things as they ought not to be read — hurriedly. But 
even in this way I have received a stronger impression than. 
any fresh poems have for a long while given 'me, that to read 
once is a reason for reading again. The sonnets towards 
' The House of Life ' attract me peculiarly. I feel about 
them as I do about a new cahier of music which I have been 
' trying ' here and there with the delightful conviction that • 
I have a great deal to become acquainted with and to like 
better and better." . And again, in acknowledgment of some 
photographs: "The 'Hamlet' seems tome perfectly intelli- 
gible, and altogether admirable in conception, except in the 
type of the man's head. I feel sure that ' Hamlet ' had a 
square anterior lobe. 

"Mr. Lewes says, this conception of yours makes him 
long to be an actor who has ' Hamlet ' for one of his parts, 
that he might carry out this scene according to your idea. 

" One is always liable to mistake prejudices for sufficient 
inductions, about types of head and face, as well as about all 



-?!!> 



LAST TEARS. 



oliz 



dipJL i^*^" . I """"^ i-^P'fissions - perhaps only preju- 
tZ „?! r' "" '^' ""-^""ness of my e^perknce I about 
It i™re'Z: "^l*'" "'""•"' *° P^»'°°=*'« expression 
oal basis. But in mary particulars facial expression is like 
the expressmn of hand-writing: the relations are too subtle 
^^L^""*' *° "^ '''''^'' -d o^'y shallowness t 
George Eliot read but little contemporary fiction bein^ 
usually absorbed in the study of some particular sujct^ 
my own spiritual good I need all other sort of read- 

at^^^ ^^'' "r°v *^^" ^ "^^^ fi«''°°- I know nothing 
of contemporary English novelists with the exception of — 1 

mL^^r ''v^°*'- ^y '=°°^*»°t swan is that I 

must leave so much of the greatest writing which the 
centuries have sifted for me unread for want of time » 
I'M the same reason, on being recommended by a literarv 
friend to read Walt Whitman, she hesitated on'ihe S 
of his not containing anything spiritually needful for her, 
but, having been induced to take him up, he changed her 

TC^''u'"^f'':^'\^' ^' ""^ «°°t-i^ what was^-good 
for her soul." As to lighter reading, she was fond of b^oks 

sLnT^ lI?»°T'"« "''^^^ Voyage of the Challenger- a 
splendid boot" Among foreign novelists she was very partial 

pWnTsto^rr ' '"' '"^^ "' "^' Koumiassi/e^as a 
Persons who were privileged enough to be admitted to the 
intimacy of George Eliot and Mr. Lewes could not fail to be 
impressed by the immense admiration which they had 'or 
one another. Lewes's tenderness, always on the wrtch lest 
the great writer with her delicately poised health, should 
r tr'*^^";''"' ^'^ ^o^^t^lng of doghke fidelity. On 
the other hand, in spite of George Eliot', habitually retiring 

«eamJ;t r^.w ^^"•"'.S^S^'l °° the opposite side of an 
Mgument to that maintained by the brilliant savant, in 
taking his part, she usually had the best of it, although in 
the most gentle and feminine way. 

Although there was entire oneness of feeling becween them 
there was no unanimity of opinion. George Eliot had the 



olz 



GEOHOE KLIOT. 



"1 



i 



ml 



kighest regard for Lewes's opinions, but held to her own. 
One of the chief subjects of difference consisted in their 
attitude towards Christianity : whereas he was its unoom- 
promising opponent, she had the greatest sympathy with 
Its various manifestations from Roman Catholio^ceticism 
to Evangelical austerity and Methodist fervor. Her rever- 
ence for every form of worship in which mankind has more 
or less consciously embodied its sense of the mystery of all 
"this unintelligible world" increased with the yeaS. She 

soTritwif^^H^'"'*"'*'' ^J *'^* ^^^'^^''y «f the Positivist 
spirit which recognizes the beneficial element in every form 
of religion, aiid sees the close, nay indissoluble, connecti->n 
between the faith of former generations and the ideal of our 

IZ'r,, *r -^""""^ *■"?'" ='=°P« ^" '"« °eed8 and 
aspirations of her spiritual nature in the religion of humanity 

ttrou.'i^ .nT ^ 'f i^^peatedly pointed out, there rui 
through all her works the same persistent teaching of "the 
Infinite Nature of Duty." And with Comte she refers "the 
obligations of duty, as well as all sentiments of devotion 
to a concrete object, at once ideal and real ; the Human Race' 
conceived ^ a continuous whole, including the pwt, the 
present, and the future." ^^^ 

Though George Eliot drew many of her ideas of moral cul- 
tivation from the doctrines of Comte's PhUosophie Pcitte 
she was not a Positivist in the strict sense of the word He 
mind was far too creative by nature to give an unqualified 

^e idr„f° '"""l' r*"" "^ ^•"°'«'«- I'"1««'J. ''O' devotion to 
m^A t '?^"'""'^' """""'"""^ ^ * """^'''i^e ''hole, is not so 
much characteristic of Positivists as of the greatest modern 
minds, minds such as Lessing, Bentham, Shelley, Mill Maz- 

tTel'etf ^T ''"«°- ^°^°""='' as'comte^io^K^d 
these idea^ into a consistent doctrine, George Eliot found her- 
self greatly attracted to his system ; and Mr. Beesly. after an 
acquaintance of eighteen years, considered himself fjstified in 
stating that her powerful intellect had accepted the teaching 
of Auguste Comte, ai„i that she looked forward to le^! 
organization of belief on the lines which he had laid dow^ 
8^.11 her adherence, like that of G. H. Lewes, was only p^Ll," 
and applied mainly to his philosophy, and not to hU ^eme 



LAST TEAKa 



clxi 



Laffltte hnVciT ■ . ., °'»*°'»atiO'> presided over by M 

Perhaps in the course of timTr''"'' °^^'' ^"""^'''^^ ^'>'^- 
denoy encroached To i T ^" "0'''l«i°8 analytical ten- 

HerLinen^^'^dtraLrnL-i^^^^^^^^^^^ 
t.ng m>ny and incisive ridicule are no lo^n^te^^^ed'S th^ 



clxii 



GEORGE ELIOT. 




One of the papers, however, that entiUed 'Debaoing the 
XoSlT"^^ "^T"' """"'"i^y ""^•"''l «karaote?istio 
LnHrT,^!'"*" °"°'*- " » » P''^y Potest against the 
tendency of the present generation to turn the grandest deeds 
and noblest works of art into food for laughter "or she 
hated nothing bo much as mockery and ridicule of what other 

Zltw^'T'^^.'f'"' """'''"8 '^"^ *•"""' 'ho considered 
IntoZiT IT ^'°"S «»Pe"titious fancies were the most 

T^nTr,, a" Tu'f *'^^ ^'"""e *° «"''l' " Pitoh that she 
even disliked a book like 'Alice in Wonderland' because it 
laughed at the things which children had had a kind oTb^Uef 
JS'»f ="'!""°8 *••" vicious habit of burlesquing the thinus 
that ought to be regarded with awe and admiration, she r^ 
™S !,* * ^f^^'^y buffoonery debase all historic beauty, 

S '.1 ^T^" '''" '"' *''" ^'^'' °^ ^^^ ennobling emotions 
wS viS."' *'''^°^ °' '"^'"°^' """^ "^« ^'"''°" °"« 

8nl^°'^>*'*^*°''7"^' ^ ""^ °°'y P»P«^ i" 'Theophrastus 
Such ' quite free from cynicism. It contains, under a slightly 

ea Iv 1 rVr^'* ""^'^ **"'"' reminiscences of her^own 
early life This volume, not published till May 1879 was 
written before the incalculable loss which befell GeoSeEU^ 
in the autumn of the preceding year. 

metf'^Jw^.'?'^'"^T'^^ '"""°" °' ^^^8'" ">« pleasant retire- 
ment of Witley Lewes and George Eliot returned to London. 
A severe cold taken by Lewes proved the forerunner of ^ 
serious disorder, and, after a short illness, this bright, many! 

year ' Se ta^'^"' ''If *' ^'^'^^ '^^'^y ^ >>« ^^-ty-e-'d 
year. He had frequently said to his friends that the most 

desirable end of a well-spent life was a painless death; and 

a^^^hough his own could not be called painless, his sufferings 

l^«f t, ""^l""" ''** ^^'"^ '° '»0""> him, one may 

mnl^t^ '*^' '" ^^1°^" ''°'^'' ""at "for the first sharp 
pangs there is no comfort - whatever goodness may surround 
us, darkness and silence still hang about our pain » In her 



.:w^. LP. 



I>A8T YEABS. 



elxiii 



glad to hear also that both in England and (trJa,;; f'h 

or scheme, on which the studentohrpTs a^rl^Z ^ t'^' 

-, vise ixiwiiLiio poaoea oil, and 



elsir 



OKOROE ELIOT. 



bv surorigB hv h.. • "".f ''"'>• but her intimate circle 

n.an, dating fiS^-eJjLnT.*""^ '^"' *"' ««»"«- 
warmeat frlndSira^d hi, bl'n^li. I '*°. ^^^ ""° ^^ 

she could still find comfort dur^ni The rTmai^r IT v/' 

;»^-^rarMfK' £r 0^ -i '""■ 

not destined to be proTongeT ^"^"'^'^^y !•" "& wa. 

palffnSa^rH Lre;lrer:f S^''^^ •"" ^" " 

pinessforherwhensheanVMr c"s7i^^^^^^^ 

settling, on their retnm, at her favTr^te „ ^ ,^„"^;^^^^^^ 

s'^fmeSTar ''" '*''° ^S^"' STreS K^^' 

she was conCplati^g aS^rusIl IfTe'' ^l"'/""' '''''* 
with her husbMid On f i^ *^i ■ . ^ -^^ dramatists 

Saturday p^X concert »h'°« ^^ '^^ ^«'" ^ «"« 
through'^ome'She mns^^he h«^"Hr'T'"? ^°""' P"''"'* 
cold was probably S on th»T^„ T"«- ^" ^"'^ 



I-A8T TEARS. 



0lx» 



. 01x» 

«"y an affection of thn i»™»- 

There seeded no I« o 7«^ 7^^ '^^^'f "dvice. 

'^aa unexpectedly discovered tb^tinfl^ ^'.°° Wednesday it 

the heart, and LtZ2>JZ^ ^ "''"'° ^ 

-.dnight of the 22nd o. ZlCtl^ T'^'t ^'°'- 
i>^ at precisely the same a<re^L«.. \^/''«* ^'o'- "ho 
•nd painlessly away, and on Chri^t.^rp ' ^"f P'""*'" ^""% 
of her death was received with II ^ '" """ announcement 
J.JhesideofC^r.e^-t--«--h^^^^^^ 

forrarn"ntr^^r?n1eJ^- S'"^'.aes^ as uni- 
On the contrary, her life f3 ?*''."'8 " """^ a^leading 
Boribes an astoJ;hing,y ^/rortif T' *f '*^ """^"S' <•- 
agmation from the little St^ffoiShtre viL *"."" '^'' '» '»■ 
"Prang, to the simple rur^s^Z ,^7"*** ''^«'«"' »>» father 
and traces her histoVtrZ moment T °' ^" "'" y°"">, 
ers, consisting of the m„»t !q^.- • 7^*" * """"i of mourn- 
England, followed her rLerLT"^*' """" '^^ '""o- ^n 
how truly eventful waTthe Kf"." T°* '""P ^^lizing 
spirit the '"^ ^^« °^ her who now joined in 

In mind, mj^^fty.tl '*^" 

In pulM, ,t,„L , ^ *" P™*"™ : live 

In deed, of daring rectitnde. ii «„m 
For m„e„Me .i„. th., end i"^" 

To rawer iwuei" '*""'<»'« «ge man', wmj, 



1# »v 



ROMOLA. 



PEOEM. 

M he travelled witi broad glow 2f f '"»'' •" *^« '^"■V 
RMar. of Hercules, a^fr^^ Z* "" '^^ ^"»»' '° *^o 
•orowaU the «no^ A^^ridl rTv""! °' "■" Caucus 
the Western Isles.^^ ClrlhrJ" "" ^^^ '"^«^««> »* 
and unstable sea-wZSL^ ^^ °"'"'""'' '^^ l«"d 
the same valleys a. h"h„8eer^r*' """""^ "hadow. on 
pine forests, ^d the b^ l'?"'^'^~'»''°"^« ""'"nts, and 
rain-freshened grT-srLe?' »""'°.'''^ JOung com or 

ing by the rive^d:rrn.?n;iS^T5.rj:!r "'v"""" -- 

on the many-curved seaooast i^V^ »«dK<>-like mastg 

rise to-day. And as theS 1^,^*/."°* 'P°<» "-here they 
the dwelling, of m" Yt Z ^^ tw '" .T™ P'"™"" -^ 
nestling chUdren, on 'the hajg^d w^T„^' ""' '"""* "^ 
ness; on the hasty uprisinB otttr^iJ^""" """^ ""k" 
on the late sleep of the nTlt «h,^ ^ard-handed laborer, and 
ing the stars or tte «S^';fi^!°'' "^"^^^ ^ question- 
Wledge which wo„rei' ^J"" TV°^ *^»' ^i<lden 
brirf life, and show its d^k pa^f tht " ^"^ "^ ""«'» 
whither, to be an arc in im im™ ' *^*',«««a«d to bend no- 
gjoT. The great ^er co^r^s ThTht' '"t "' "«^' "^^ 
of men have hardly chaneeT .^ i '"^ '''*P«"J t^e lives 

life-currents that eb^iTw'inhLt"": °^" "'""""»' «■« 
same great needs, the sameTra^n "f "^ ^"^""^ *" the 

thought follows close Tthe slot °T '^^*«™'"- As our 
""pressed with the bro'd sijf/tl?'* "^T' -« "e 
never alters in the main h^d^^ ? ° u ^'™*" '"*• ''^ch 
labor, eeed-timeandharvesjtv^i'l^^^'^'^-^-^er.nd 



! ■'I 



TI 



" ROHOLA. 

ETen If, initead of following the dim d»ybmk, our liaa>iiia- 
bon P.UIM on • certain hi.torio«l spot and awaiu thefuller 
morning, we my we a world-famou. oity, which hu hardly 
changed lU ouUme since the dayiof Columbus, weming to 
•tand as an almost unviolated symbol, amidst the flux of hu- 
man tlungs, to remind us that we still resemble the men of 
tte past more than we differ from them, a. the great mechani- 
cal principles on which those domes and towers were raised 
must make a likeness in human building that will be broader 

;^ll> T'ln*^"" ^^ P""'*"'" '"'"'8«- -^""l "^o-btless, if the 
spmt of a Florentme citizen, whose eyes were closed for the 
ast tune while Columbus was stiU waiting and arguing for the 
three poor yessels with which he was to set «iil f^m the port 

tlllT'- •* "^ "*"? '""° ^^ '^^ ""i ?»<"» where our 
thought u pauamg, he would believe that there must still be 

his b^'ire ""^'"'"'''"8 *•" '^ """""S "« inheritors of 
Let US suppose that such a Shade has been permitted to 
revisit the glimpses of the golden morning, and is standing 
once more on the famous hUl of San MinUto, which ovw? 
looks Florence from the south. 

The Spirit is clothed in his habit as he lived: the folds of 
his welWined black silk garment or i««» hang in grave n^- 
broken Imes from neck to ankle; his plain cloth cap" with its 
teeeheUo,m long hanging strip of drapery, to serve as a scarf 
in case of need, surmounts a penetrating face, not, perhaps 
very handsome, but with a firm, weU-cut mouth, k^t dj- 
tmotly human by a close-shaven lip and chin. It is a face 
charged with memories of a keen and various life passed below 
ttere on the banks of the gleaming river, and as he looks at 
Uie scene before him, the sense of familiarity is so much 
stronger than the perception of change, that he thinks it 
might be possible to descend once more amongst the streets, 
SBd take up that busy life where he left it. For it is not onlv 
the mountains and the westward-bending river that he recog- 
nizes ; not on y the dark sides of Mount Morello oppositeto 
him, and the long vaUey of the Amo that seems to stretoh its 
gray low-tufted luxuriance to the far-off ridges of Carrara; 
and the steep height of Kegole, with ite crown of monartii^ 



•Of other famlliM ohiJ^r^ T ," *" '°°'" •* tkwn. He 
JT* though Ci.?CreltT *" '" -^'^ ''•^• 
.amount^ the w.11,, .„d rno!rcY.d r'!>'""'"' ''«' «"•" 
dladen., hi. eye. wiU not dweU on ^»f^? 'I'^ « with . , ,; 
UTe.i.tibIy to the unique towL * ""^i they are Jru. 

.tem drawn tow JdTe .vu, J^ •?"''«^ft '"'«« taU (i, .„ 
the Old Pal«,e in .he veTii^t of t"h'^"r *""«»«'' " - -«« 
look, none the wor,e forS« f "** «"7-the tov>. .- ut 

ri«-heu«dtow.;kSdtV"Vh:t:TH''''' •"■'" ^--' 

U" the world, which, in hi. eiirlv . *l /?"' *"' «"«' -^ 
l^gthoughtintheLdof ai^.^y''°°t' ^'^ ''-' ""'v . 
It rai<w. it, large curved, til] 'T*^; ^"'""'"•y'd aan -Uer. 
wril-known belliw.r-G?ot?ta *^' ''•"•• ^^ ">c 
color, and the graoeful-.pbXdrjd'.f'"''^* »'''-' 

''"cS'^rtS:;^^^^^^^^^^^ 

rights .tand. the W dTlr^«","'o'"- ^^ ^"^ "n the 
buried our famou.diSnn;f ®'^'' C'«"' '^bere we 
»d fanning them w:^' Ke^ ^ ?" ""«" ""W brow. 
But Santa Croc, had no .pL tt^ ^'^'" '"'' °' '«^'""- 
ft>U<rf great buUding pr^?Z,t™ ''"',?^°"«'ti"'« were too 
•nd marble, we had o^^^ ^7 """? ?" °"' i" 'tone 
not to .peak of rapaoiou. oStieri br°iW^^?/° W for, 
«h«ed territorie., and our fS t'^** '"^^^'y' «"» Pur- 
w«.t. But what architect caTtte F«ti T'' r'l'* ""^ 
ployed to buUd that spire for^em? ul ^°w ^^^ *""■ 
my day, FUippo Brunelleschi or Mi^iT, "^ '^^ buUt in 
TiMd .omethi^g of anotw Z^ "^ """^^ bare de- 
-ffy^*°--theohrh'':f?i^° ^-t-aomething 

th.^oirw^:Ko:t"dtii.t'^ r *"-• - - 

wonder at the«, modem time. SvW« "^"'«" ^^'^ ''* 
convenient gate, been closed? lLv'"'°"'°^*'"'«^c'<«» 

t^towerahavebeenleirLat^wL'^^-ir;!:,?-^^^^^ 

' The i'raaclaoani. 



10 



ROHOLA. 



entme. dweU in auoh harmony, that there are no longer oon- 
jpiraoie. to bring ambitious eziles home again with armed 
bands at their back? These are difficult questions: it is 
««8ier and pleanuter to recognize the old than to account for 

they used to be-the Ponte Veochio, least lihe other bridge, 
m the world, laden with the same quaint shops where our 
Spint remembers lingering a little on his way perhaps to look 
at the progress of that great palace which Messer Luca Pitti 
,. f«* '-building with huge stones got from the Hill of Bo- 
-.1 "lose, behind, or perhaps to transact a Uttie business 
Z!\^f '^*^''^"^" ^ Oltramo. The exorbitant line of 
ttePittiroof u hidden from San Miniato; but the yearning 
ct the old Florentine is not to see Messer Luca'i. too-ambi- 
bous palace which he built unto himself, it is to be down 
•inong aiose narrow streets and busy humming Piazze where 
he mherited the eager life of his fathers. Is not the anxious 
Totang with black and white beans stUl gotog on down there? 
mo are the priori in these months, eating soberly reguUted 
official dinners m the Palazzo Vecchio, with removes of tripe 
^ # r^*? ?"*"•*««»' "'""""ed by practical jokes against' the 
Ill-fated butt among those potent signers? Are not the siir- 
nifioant banners still hung from the windows-stiii distribut^ 
Witt decent pomp under Orcagna's Loggia every two months? 
Life had Its zest for the old Florentine when he, too, trod 
fte marble stops and shared in those dignities. Hislolitios 
had ,m area as wide as his trade, which stretohed from Syria 
to Britain, but they had also the passionate intensity, and the 
detailed practical interest, which could belong only to a nar- 
row scene of cc-porate action; only to the members of a oom- 
mun% shut m close by the hills and by waUs of sU mUes' 
oaomt, where men knew each other as they passed in the 
street, set their eyes every day on the memorials of their com- 
monwealth, and were conscious of having not simply the right 
to vote, but the chance of being voted for. He loved his hon- 

^.5" # it «»"'^,."'« '""'■«»8 ot his comiting-house, of hi« 

guild, of the public councQ-chamber; he loved hU enmities 

' N .w Boboli. 



^I»^. 



^;^i;' ' 



PROXH. 

been a golden florin. He loZ J°^^ !!!'"^ ""« « i* had 
good aUi«.ee, and went hil^i^ 1 ^^T ''''' '"^"y ''^ » 
eyes after concluding a satiaW^ ^P^"°' "S^^' i» W« 
daughter under hi, fa'o^tf^ln ^•°'"'^« *« his son w 
Wed his gan.e at he„ undlrttT™^ f ' '^''"'"« -°lj he 
jest, and even his coarse iot. . ^^ ^°*8'^ «d his bitin* 
fnan eligible for the hi'gVesf la^Tl'*"'"? ^^^ ^^'^ »' • 
Insight into all sorts o/ s^aVTlTh^; ^ ^"^ '^'"'^ »° 
been of the " Ten " »»,„ "'^ ■°<1 abroad: he hsui 

"%bt" who'tU^nr Siis. ^^-'' o' *^^ 

Signori who were the headV^f d^^Plme, of the Priori or 
be had even risen to th^LrL^L T^" 8°'««»'enti 
bad made one in embassies to th?P ^ ? Gonfaloniere; he 
and he had been oom^ ^ to^^f rjT"^ *° ""^ Veneti«sl 
he, directing the ingloS.l!l^ hired army of the Repub- 
died of brave breast wS '^""'.T'"' « ''hich no m^ 
fells and trampling, S^'''tr '^t^T^'"* ""^yo'casu^ 
truet men with^t bittem^s w """^ ^^^'^ ^^'^ *<> dis- 
rf skill, but not deTd to ir^52°:i't'"!^^»«*^« 
handed honor. For the wt! ? ?* ^*""™ ""d clean- 
entertain conflicting I'tite L°d ^ i^J''"'"'' "^-^ '-■" 
with much impartillity It w«T '^"'"^^'^'y opinions 
was duly tinctu':^wi| ttf CS'^v' '""''•^' «'«* ^' 
not altogether with the T^lgarTt fn h " "«*' »°'^ J^^ged 
eients: he, too, in his pr^fhid Ml ^T^ '"^ '^o «^ 
wot manuscripts, and Cuaid^ '^V?'* *"' tl" aost cor- 
and for disinto^^ busU of^the Sf °™"' '°^ •^'"'^^^ ^'^ 
haps, <„,„«. ^,.fj^ wanting arto7h«t'°°'^'-^°'"<^ P«^ 
auftentic; and in his old age he h!^ ™-h T' *"" ""' «>• less 
fi«t sheets of that fine Homer whinT "'""*" '°'""" «»« 
glones of the Florentine pZ Bu LT. '^°°* *'"• ««ly 
neglected to hang up a w^en L. l^"^ "°'' ^°' aU that 
der the protection ot th"T"dolT/' '''"'"'' °' ^'°'»''« "-^ 
ance for his sins in large gSt^th r'""^ °' '» "J" P«n- 
hves had not been Sfedl th^^:^/""'/ »' ""^^^ whose 
had not even neglected making uSr^r^ °' *^' "'"""'i ^^ 
•nga for the Frati, against ^^^..'ZZa'Z^ ^^ 



mM.^ 






iiMriii 



u 



BOHOLA. 



I, 



For the Unseen Powers were mighty. Who knew-who 
was suT»-th»t theie was any name given to them behind 
which there was no augry force to be appeased, no inteioes- 
■ory pity to be won? Were not gems medicinal, though thev 
only pressed the finger? Were not aU things charged with 
occult virtues? Lucretius might be right-he was an ancient, 
and a great poet; Luigi Pulci, too, who was suspected of not 
beUeving anything from the roof upward (dal tetto in «,). had 
very much Uie air of being right over the supper-table, whan 
the wme and jests were circulating fast, though he was only a 
poet m the vulgar tongue. There were even learned person- 
ages who maintained that Aristotle, wisest of men (unless, 
mdeed, Plato were wiser?), was a thoroughly irreligious phiC 
opher; and a liberal scholar must entertain all speculations. 
But the negatives might, after all, prove false; nay, seemed 
manifestly false, as the circling hours swept past him. and 
turned round with graver faces. For had not the world be- 
come Christian? Had he not been baptized in San Giovanni, 
where the dome is awful with the symbols of coming iudn- 
ment, and where the altar bears a crucified Image disturbing 
to perfect complacency in oneself and the world? Our re- 
suscitated Spirit was not a pagan philosopher, nor a philoso- 
phizmg pagan poet, but a man of the fifteenth century, inher- 
iting Its strange web of belief and unbelief; of Epicurean 
levity anufetiohistic dread; of pedantic impossible ethics ut- 
tered by rote, and crude passions acted out with chUdish im- 
pulsiveness; of inclination toward a self -indulgent paganism. 
«md inevitable subjection to that human conscience i^ch. in 
the unrest of a new growth, was filling the air with stranm 
prophecies and presentiments. 

He had sraUed, perhaps, and shaken his head dubiously, as 
he heard simple folk talk of a Pope AngeUco, who was to oime 
by and by and bring in a new order of things, to purify the 
Church fnin simony, and the lives of the clergy from scandid 
—a 8taf« of affairs too different from what existed under In- 
nocent the Eighth for a shrewd merchant and politician to 
regard the prospect as worthy of entering into bis calcula- 
tions. But he felt the evils of the time, nevertheless; for he 
was a man of publio spirit, and public spirit can never b« 



PROEM. J3 

churohes, wh^ their fXoL^aweT'uEr" "^ *"' 
and sickness. The Prate Papr,,.TK- J ^".^^''"K ^rom want 
for elderly ears- vet iV^f»l I'l "f*™"* "^'^^ *°° '^ 

-ove hU^^^rt^^: ra"p!KaVSV°^''P'«~''>» 
off their ornaments, and deMv^rpH h? '^'"°'"' *"*" *°°k 

benefit of the n«^;. ""* '^"^ "^ *° "« «°''l *«' the 

e^iaiiy Rj ^SLTxizt'^^zr'i 

LorZrJl. ^ ^- f " ^*^ ^^fi""* """i ""ft. though, to 
STmIo Stattrref^^ "1 ^^^ *^« ^^"^ --^^ ot 

^^on, aire:^;„^rrssrcr,:f; Tizn 
MirLr^ch^rrirbsS 

oions that his handsome son woid play tte part of ^ifnr^'" 

-TTit. M,.-;"- r.,-s^c 

vruu uoos not pay on a Saturday." 



14 



ROHOLA. 




fiery phUcMopher is lecturing on Dante in the Daomo, and 
gomg home to write bitter inTeotives against the father and 
mother of the bad critic who may hare found fault with hia 
classical spelling? Are our wiser heads leaning toward alli- 
ance with the Pope and the Eegno,' or are they rather inclin- 
ing their ears to the orators of France and of Milan? 

"There is knowledge of these things to be had in the 
streets below, on the beloved marmi in front of the churches, 
and under the sheltering Loggie, where surely our citizens 
have still their gossip and debates, their bitter and merry jests 
!f , L ^/*' "* °°* *^* weU-remembered buUdings aU 
mere t The changes have not been so great in those uncounted 
years. I will go down and hear— I will tread the familiar 
pavement, and hear once again the speech of Florentines " 

Go not down, good SpiritI for the changes are great and 
the speech of Florentines would sound as a riddle in your 
ears. Or, if you go, mingle with no politicians on the marmi, 
or elsewhere; ask no questions about trade in the Oalimara- 
confuse yourself with no inquiries into scholarship, official or 
monastic Only look at the sunlight and shadows on the 
grand walls that were buUt solidly, and have endured in their 
grandeur; look at the faces of the little children, making an- 
other sunlight amid the shadows of age; look, if you wUL into 
the churches, ;^d hear the same chants, see the same images 
as of old-the imag^- of wUling anguish for a great e^of 
beneficent love and ascending glory ; see upturned living faces, 
and lips moving to the old prayers for help. These things 
have not changed. The sunUght and shadows bring their old 
beauty and waken the old heart-strains at morning, noon, and 
eventide; the little children are still the symbol of the eternal 
marriage between love and duty; and men still yearn for the 
reipi of peace and righteousness— still own that life to be the 
highest which is a conscious voluntaiy sacrifice. For the 
Pope Angelico is not come yet. 

StlS' °*™ *'™° *" ^"^^ ^^ "^ °' dUtinotlon uaosg the Italian 



BOOK L 



CHAPTER I. 

THB 8HIPWHECKED STRAlromi. 

rarely thread^ by (ieTrTo! ^, '*'"'"' ""> ^<^^ "oW 

for ascertain seyZl^^X^ro^'.^' Z" '"'r"* ^ 
tion: ■^ *^ aoor place, bearing Uiis insorip- 

<JUI NACQUK IL DIVIiJO POBTA. 

quarrels and broad iests nf w~.i „ JT^ • ^^ "•: lustorioal 
i". quarter. Of g^CtlZ'-a" " ""' "'°""-P'«'- 

i4S:to ti°e ri^x'^fiT'''^ °^''"' ^*^ °^ ^p-^ 

Btcoping slightly, and l^lS'downta^d S T" T '" 

T''-^^<iin;s^^^rtbi.\ro:;T^Cw '^^^"• 

haired, broad-shouldered man, of the t^^wK^t-" !!,^»^- 
phrase, is moulded with the fist and M^?t "."•''' "" ^""""^ 

"e; but the »l^in.porta„t Sv^wSh had"'''.*'' ?'""■ 
out in the deep lines about h i, T . "^ vrntteu itself 

tended to oorre^ s^T^^l \'' ^'""^ ^^^ '"""'J' see-ned in- 

workmanshipThi:^^rtt7rarb::S;r" 't "^^ '"^'^ 

He had deposited a large welTfi II «J^ '"' ^'* "*«""■ 

the paveme^ and befo™ l^m h ^' .'?'^' °^ ■"""«• °» 
ni-hed partly'with Si woilntlf. ^If » '?'>''«'? «- 

1 o-jva us tareaa and 



M 



BOHOLA. 



I 




i 5 



piM, and partly with fragments of glass, which had probably 
bera taken in exchange for those commodities. 

" Young man," he said, pointing to a ring on the finger of 
Uie rechnmg figure, " when your chin has got a stiffer crop on 
It, you U know better than to take your nap in street corners 
with a ring like that on your forefinger. By the Holy 'van- 
gels I If It had been anybody but me standing over you two 
minutes ago-but Bratti Ferraveoohi is not the man to steal 
The oat couldn't eat her mouse if she didn't catch it aUve" 
tod Bratti couldn't relish gain if it had no taste of a bargain 
Why, young man, one San Giovanni, three years ago, the 
Saint sent a dead body in my way-a blind beggar, with his 
cap well lined with pieees-but, if you'll believe me, my 
•tomach turned against the money I'd never bargained for 
tiU It came into my head that San Giovanni owed me the 

fv^^i"' ^ ** ^ "P*°"^ y*"^y »' *^« ^«»ta! besides, I buried 
the body and paid for a mass-and so I saw it was a fair bar- 
^. But how comes a young man like you, with the face of 
Messer San Michele, to be sleeping on a stone bed with the 
wind for a curtain? " 

The deep guttural sounds of the speaker were scarcely intel- 
hgible to the newly waked, bewildered listener, but he under- 
stwd the action of pointing to his ring : he looked down at it, 
and, with a half-automatic obedience to the warning, took it 
off and thrust it within his doublet, rising at the same time 
and stretchmg himself. 

"Your tunic and hose match ill with that jewel, younif 
man » s^d Bratti. deliberately. "Anybody might ^ay thf 
samts had sent j«n. a dead body; but if you took the jewels, 
I hope you buried him-and you can afford a mass or two for 
him mto the bargain." 

Something like a painful thrill appeared to dart through th« 
frame of the listener, and arrest the careless stretching of his 
arms tod chest. For an instant he turned on Bratti with a 
sharp frown; but he immediately recovered an air of indifiEer- 
ence, took off the red Levtotine cap which hung like a neat 
purse over his left ear, pushed back his long dark-brown curls, 
tod glancing at his dress, said, smilingly— 
"You (peak truth, friend: my garments are aa weather- 



THE SHIPWRECKED SnUNOER 17 

the »in. The fact is, Fm a »^„ '"^."^i^"' ««* « weU as 

I came ia foo.«,e last^ht, itX^ f °"""^ '"'» '^«° 
comer of this hoepit8bleno,.w f ^ ^'°8wg myself »» 

oh«>oe hostelry, wh^h LS,f ^ ""''"^ -^^ '<"^' f<" a 

« Florentine ca/Cu a C'^°"V° ^'^^ » Christian and 
fe>» Genoa? More liely JZV ""^f ^'"you'renot 
clothes?" "'"'y *'°'" ^»'oe. bv the cut of your 

"At this present moment," said ♦),« .*, 
» of less importance where I c^e ft„Th *'\'"""'"8' "'' 
to for a mouthful of breakftLr Thu . ^, ^^*'"' ^ '^'^ 8° 
grim look on me just here^t ?'^ °^ y"""" *"«"« 

niore lively quarter where I „. ^? "^"^ '"» ""« '"? to a 
"That f c^si^^'sZiTSl:'^'^ ""J -^ '°<i8^8?" 
young man, that I hare happ;neS^to L ^.t"' ^°°^ *°'*"°«' 
rezzano this morning, and ta^«H ^7»""»8 i" from Bo- 
Vecohio to say rive^^ tStT t."^ '"'^ **» '^«™»t° 
good fortune. ^But it re^aiS to ^^^ ^'."^ -^ -y- " ^o-" 
the matter, ifothing for^tw„ !^ ''''^' " "y P'ofit in 
yon the way to Mere4, VecXt^',5r* '"'^- " ^ "^'^^ 
•«Bt to let me have the biS.%St "^^^ ^"^ P»*~» 
whjmyou«.t better-ard^uS^^^^^^ 

abetter lining to ^ a^Ll'm^i^';^:^^^^ 

burst out in loud ha«h . "''' °*f ^ J*" "Ply, and 

Kiting of a Si . °A? r/ """'" ''"' ""^ting ^d 

" It's worth but little •'^/.f-^'^ '"^*'? " ' 

conver«,tional Lni ^ir^d r^^' ^'''"^^^^ 

»orth but little. Still if wl '^^*"' ^'"" ''^°*^<"> a" 

ii.nn.- ' « you ve a nund to sxt vn 1* .-_ 

"J><w-^.u.„ciunger.^ "roken gUs.. „r old Ir„n;r' "^ 



18 



ROXOU. 









I i 



-, I 



, I' ? 



with k lata worth more thkn tar naw nn. «. -stv 

Wrvt'm?:H ^5"""^ '^ P"^-^' it', not a XS 
uau me stock. CAtaiiaratta—iaratta^-i'raUa? And 

SriLr^S„:',r ^ ^- -«• ^-, an/wi.;.. ytJ 

in exchange for that infSnnationT " °°*^* y"* 

" Well, weU; a Florentioe doesn't mind biddina a fair t,h«- 

hr rit'' K ?<f.^ "°'^'' -^ "'"- though he'ma?^"^ 
Aose by It If I take you to the prettiest damsel in the Mai! 

^Nt'^Wr/rf -**"* wiH be a fair b ~g«".''' """" 

£tA^hoS^;^S-£c:^ 

"Ahl young man," said Bratti, with a sidewav irhmfl. of 
some adm^tion, «'you were not bom of a CZ-STiJ 
shops were open when you came into the world Yo^renrt 

Cin f I . °" "" *'y^» *° °"^e Florence as hot sL 
Spam for those dogs of hell that want to get aU the nmfif ^ 
usury to themselves and leave none for Chri tW anTwh» 
rittilf' ^f ""-^^'tk » Pi-eof yello^fjth ii;^~ 
Z sm^^L""^: eTeeStr "^J ''^'"'"-' ""^ 

5sSr^-i--^--cSsS 

-blessed be his name, and send me a sight of him this day ( 



tikt 



THE SHiPTniBCKID STRANOEa 



1-Ppen.nottooonoemme I.' ?^»'u"*'°^yj "but " 
"See, nowl" said B^i*; <!?""'. ^•''"''•" 

»ood bargain with^'.^^^oM.rr'^.''^' "^'^' »»''• • 
tbing, young man, thrush ^u'^ !! T^AV"'.'^^^ °'" «""- 
Pwy. San Giovanni Cv^^, "hr J^ *" '"'''* " » 1»»- 
fop two one-eyed men bTw ' """* ^'°"»'«« « a match 

Tbey had now eme«JtmWL"^ "" """ ^•'"•*°" 
piazza, known to the^er^o™ .""•"'**' '"*° » broad 
Veoohio, or the Old ^ket tlf ""' '"*t" *" "" hereto 
tke «=ene of a prov^U^tP'*^ "'.""Sb it had been 
"u.y. perhaps, "ay. fond°Z2rj~" *'"•« "".memorial, and 
the Fesulean anoeators of tUmn^l- *^* ''*"7 »P°' *« ''hioh 
high fastness to tr^o with ^T™ « ' ^T^^"^ '~» their 
bad not been ah^ed „ a nllnf ^^•"i"**°"°'""'^«^l''y. 
wealth. In the early deed's rfth/.?"'T ^^ ^'°«»"i»« 
was now near its end Z wl ^^i**'"** """'"y. which 
ilies of the^<^ Li'JJi? ^f '«' *°d other powS fa^. 

l.onse.ther^Tot;,rCrCn°rr"^ "°^^*y' ^'"» ^beir 
the lond roar of mingled dS^ t t.f" """"' "'^'"'^'^ by 
by th<. butchers' stalls, wh oh th» u" °^^' """"b shocked 
counts a chief rioA T rfZ. v^ ^ "'"^ ^^ -^tonio Pucci ac- 
eclipsed the Si^ftTtte elT,^'? *'»'^ ^ '"" «*~-. 
mutton and veal (well attesS to^ ^t\ ^"' ""• 8'°'^ »' 
«;alsi for were not the S wiS ^l^'Y ""^ "«''' «■" 
diaplayed, according to the dec^ of t^ J'S*'*' ''"«"^'"^' ""'7 
now wanting to the Mercatl tortil^/. 8?°""?) '^o" J"* 
over. The proud corporatL 0?^^°',,^,^°'"°' ''"» ^'^ 
abeyance, and it was \he greit hart!'t.til T.^"" '"^ ^ 
gardeners, the cheesemonRera U,e vlT , °* '''^ °'»'^''t- 
eggs, milk, and dried fS 'a 7),. ." °^ ""acaroni, corn, 

the women's voices pS^j/a^tX'^f "" 'P' *^ ""^« 
seasons there was th« IT^ • . . *'^^ "borus. But in all 

the ehinkinjr.V ''Z;^C jTe^"^ ^ '^'^ P-^' 
cheapness at the old-,lothes8ta^^th!' f **«""?*«« offers of 
the vaunHng of new likens an'^ti^'^/r'^ '"" '^''"'"'' 
ware, kettles, and frvin,, n.l ZT ' °* ""e^ent wooden- 
narmw ,„i.JJ^?i^"'8 Pausi there was the ohofcin" "f t.K= 
■.-^...a.^ai^audcarts, together with muchMcom-' 



90 



HOUOLi.. 



tT^T^f"^' ""- could' i^i^'bT^i^^Sru".: 

A.^1,.^ houBdiolder. could well pietu4 to thtmM^ 
n ght be Men here by any chance open-air speotat^tt. „^ 

r Mon""' '"^ '"^^"^ «.crbi«*£;: 

"K TadMl ohl puda oon gran aofll, 
B beMemmltr colla mano alia maaoella, 
X rioever e dar di molil lagoffliii ' 

l^stUl aiere waa the relief of prettier rights: thera ««• 
teood-rabbit., not le.. innocent and MtonUhTtLrftoTS 
our own period, there were dove, and ainging ^TT^l 
bought «, present, for the children, there w^ .v^ kitt«! 

tt^ Jj^^t"" "^^ *" """""8; ind, better thw^. 
ttere were young .ofUy rounded cheeks and brieht evM. 
freriiened by the start from the far-off oasfaJIo ■ ^aTiH^ 

S^„T ^J^^ ■""'' •" *™ "»^«' <l»ito wanting in aZ« 
of human industry. Andhigh on a pUlar in thecLtoe^Z 
pl.0.-. venerable pUlar, fetched f~n. the ChXh of^ 
G.oy«mi-stood DonateUo's stoa. statue of HeZ with^ 

fflarltet freshened their utensils, and iheir throats also- not 
because they were unable to buy wine, iut 1«Zm Ui^r^h^ 
to save the money for their husbands ^ *^ 

But on this particular morning a sodden change seemed to 
have come over the face of the iMrket ThVS/?, ! „ 

riSdrth^^ '^'^' '^*^ '^'" ^^^orod'S 

«d already there were purchasers assembled, on the alert to 

tionable butter. But when Bratti and hi. oompujon^^ 
> Walled vtllagg. 



rai SHiPwiutonD btraitobi 



for tS^omen^'Kott thT.l^r °° """"""Potion I«d 
•rfi.^ from their pdl * 'J"". "^ V ''"^«« «^ 
taraed their b«k. on Ihei, S^nd W °' """ *^^' ^ 
Wker. who were ooncentratK^l?*^ ^T."* ""» '^°'« »' 
"> the pi«zfc A vender of old 1^ <" \* ''"'"•'"* Poin** 
ont a pair of long hoee hi^ h .. ?^?^ ^ ""■ «* »' «"wginK 

cheesemonger, with • piece of^h,^!^ *""P' "» oratorio*! 
^theother. w„ Wu'L^ JlS^.^nr'Tt •'"'*• '"^ 
pause, on that exoeUent sJc^^f ^'°* '"'• •°'P»««« 

;narket^omen, with their eg^CretaiTtr"^' "^^ "^^"^J 
Powtion, contributed » wailiLT^ , • dangerously obliqui 

In this genenu distrltSf tfeo 'r°*\"°''- 

never wanting in any BtreTllJiT^"''' ^''' ''i" '">»• 

«ni«.hierou. «.rt-a. who^uW «rf" °' •" -P~''^^r 

-Mw • great opportunity So„T:,J^ •"" ''"^' ^"deed 

«Dd dried figs, oth~f;;red 1 f ' "^ ** ^J" ""*• 

the cooked provision .tSineli^ilT'T"'' •**'^'«~'''« 'k 

*oot«ldog,ai«,, whohadle^tn:i° ^J?'"^ ^'^^ ^"^ 

applied a discriminating ^tril.^.u""*^^ *° I*"**"* 'are. 

•nnoh rapidity under tCnJ^^C^ «>« .disappeared wlS 

without K,me kicking and IT' J? *"'' ''''"• **>• mules, not 

w«. .tretching thei/m^LS^*d tte7 ''"^^« "^"^ 
•Diavolol" «ad Bratti. „ hri^\'"'°*'*''«««n-meaT 
qmte ^noticed, upon the no"y.ee"e "'^rv^"" '«"«' 
•• mad as if the most Holy Fath/r hi-, *^*"»*° ^ S""' 
■««>. I must know what tLf J S'f """"^unicated n, 
• ttouwnd year, to you tih yZ 1 tf« "tll^i'"-' '* "«"» 
jour cup of milk; bit keen houTf ^""^ ^'**> "^d 8^ 
«»^. Remember, i^?o have 4^' Tti'" ^"'"^ '^ "J 
•PeoiaUyfor the hose, wwfh ^th .11 7.' ^'^ ^^yureuit; 
bert|H,„„»rff j,„rt<,_i "^'';^'^ «J1 the«^ are the 

wwther stains." ^^ * asrumed, though, with mud and 

oldwi^Tt^rTteideTthT'^'^ *^^« towards. 

JHoment had suspendTht wail ;^LTr' ^"^^ ''""^"''^ 
la her ear: "Here are Z Im ""^ ""* "houting close 

ofpar^ey.. , «., -.'^^J^^es u^s. J,^^,^,^ 



u^M^v^xisiM^uj^miimmrM. 




maocon iboiutkin tbt chart 

(ANSI ond ISO TEST CHAUT No. J) 



1.0 



I.I 



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•IPPLlEa lf\/HGE Inc 

leU East M»n StrMi 

Rochntvr. H«w Yorli U609 USA 

(716) 4«2 - 0300 - Phoo« 

(7ia) 28B - was - Fw 



23 



BOHOLA. 



"Monna Treooa'' (eqiiivalent to "Dame OreengTocer'^ 
turned round at this unexpected trumpeting in her right ear, 
with a half-fierce, half-bewildered look, first at the speaker, ^ 
then at her disarranged commodities, and then at the speaker 
again. 

" A bad Easter and a bad year to you, and may you die by 
the sword I " she burst out, rushing toward her stall, but di- 
recting this first volley of her wrath against Bratti, who, with- 
out heeding the malediction, quietly slipped into her place, 
within hearing of the narrative which had been absorbing 
her attention ; making a sign at the same time to the younger 
stranger to keep near him. 

"I tell you I saw it myseU," said a fat man with a bunch 
of newly purchased leeks in his hand. " I was in Santa Ma- 
ria Novella, and saw it myself. The woman started up and 
threw out her arms, and cried out and said she saw a big bull 
with fiery horns coming down on the church to crush it. I 
saw it myself." 

" Saw what, Goro? " said a man of slim figure, whose eye 
twinkled rather roguishly. He wore a close jerkin, a skull- 
cap lodged carelessly over his left ear as if it had fallen there 
by chance, a delicate linen apron tucked up on one side, and 
a razor stuck in his belt. " Saw the bull or only the woman? " 

"Why, the woman, to be sure; but it's all one, mi pare; 
it doesn't alter the meaning — va/" answered the fat man, 
with some contempt. 

"Meaning? no, no; that's clear enough," said several 
voices at once, and then followed a confusion of tongues, in 
which " Lights shooting over San Lorenzo for three nights to- 
gether " — " Thunder in the clear starlight " — " Lantern of the 
Duomo struck with the sword of St. Michael" — "Palla"^ 
— "All smashed" — "Lions tearing each other to pieces" — 
"Ah I and they might well" — " Boto' caduto in Santitnma 
Nunziata I "—" Died like the best of Christians "— " God will 
have pardoned him " — were often-repeated phrases, which shot 

■ Arms of the Medici. 

' A votive image ol Lorenzo, In wax, hong up in the Church o{ the 
Anuunziata, supposed to have fallen at the time of his death. Boto is 
popular Tuscan for Voto. 



THE 8HIPWBECKBD STRANGEB. 



ijraui, who, as a newcomor, was bnsv i„ .„. i Ti ° . 

iis waxen imaee in thn -Wn,,,;-* * ri V^ , ^apw"y, "and 
them. Ahl a 8^t n>^ ^T'^^' ""^^ ^•'«' «°^te<i 

a diet of hfy toT^e ofwj^^ „*° "^ J°» r' "°.*??°! ''"' 
etS-^oS'ra.^^ ^^^ -^'eLdTas" 4r:drMt! 



M 



ROUOLA. 



r'l- 



i i 



aiid the philosopher by tums-Usten to bawdy gongs at 21 
Camiva^ ai.4 cry ' BeUissimil '-and listen to s^red fau^ ^d 
Zr^r" ?«"^»^!'' B"* this is what you loveT^u 
^ble and raise a not over your suattrini biancW ^whit^ 
h^^f \' "but you take no notice when the public treasu^ 

drams. You like to pay for footmen to walk before and be- 
hmd one of your citizens, that he may be affable and conde- 

to march before him with the drawn sword flasLg L o^ 
eyes 1— and yet Lorenzo smiles at us. SVhat Boodnesa I ' i«^ 
you think the death of aman, who would S"' ^^^J 
and bndled you as the Sforza has saddled and bridled ^Z 
you think his death is the scourge God is warning you 7by 
^rtents. I tell you there is another sort of scoSrge in the 

JlZtl',. °*^' ®f ^'°°^ }^^ '^^^^ y°" pontics, and never 
mount your proph«iy; politics is the better horse," said Nell" 
But If you bUk of portents, what portent can be greater th^ 
a pious notary? Balaam's ass was nothing to it » ^""^ 
«i/Z; \T "°*^/"* °f '"'rt, with his ink-botUe dry," 
aaid another bystander, very much out at elbows. «Be^ 

iZL^» '^' '""' everybody will believe in y^ 

The notary hmied and left the group with a look of indig- 
fZ X r^ disclosmg as he did so, the sallow but mild 
face of a short man who had been standing behind him and 
whose l^nt shoulders told of some sedentary occupation. ' 

By San Giovanni,. though," said the fat purchaser of leeks 
with the air of a person rather shaken in his theories, «ram 
not sure there isn't some truth in what Ser Cioni says. For 
I know I have good reason to find fault with the ouattHni 
JjanMt myself. Grumble, did he say? Suffocation 1 I Sd 
thmk we do grumble, and, let anybody say the word, I'll tun. 
out mto the pmzza with the readiest, stiner than have ^ 
money altered in our hands as if the magistracy were so mZ 
necromancers. And it's true Lorenzo might have^S 



Jl : 



THE 8HIPWHZ0KED STRANG131. 25 

to iti for the matter ofXt 'it ^. k ""^ ** °""y "^^^gf 
taxe, than we think Swhl^^L^'I^"-"™ *<> do with iTe 

whi^;^Ul-^ri;<^~'';^^J^e^W. «Wh„ 
one sentence, it were mere bChe^T^ *'?T '"""^K" «*» 
jniraoulous buU means eyervZ. T^ T ^ ^''«^« *»"»* your 
IJtes it to mean." «^*^«^g that any man in Ko^m 

.i.oJprmin:»,xreS';v^^ "»«-"-• --•i- 

Girolamo, with his yi«^„' t^^^^'^ *» i™, your Pra 
after the wind of MoSuo^i"*-P«^«o-»> i« mnn^g 
tke to have the fate of oertSn . ■ °*t ''^° ^°"<"' I'i"' ari 
the se^or some hot^r ^S^ '^l^.^ „^^' ^ headlong i.t 
* »««> in one ear, and Sa^ !)•«„«• ^ Itomemoo roarinB 

other, what is a poor l^S^t^^^"^^« * •^'^'' « «>« 
•"Ited? But it's pto orooro herr^"^"'" ^^ ^^'^ ^^^i' 
""nated, for he alreadHees ^at th k fT"^* *° »>« i""" 
homs means first himself anH . ^° ''"" ^''^ **« Aamine 
^payors of FlorS, 5hr«rdS'^.t """^ »««^-^ 
tojpy on the first oppoknnL"^ •^'*"'"^«'i *<> gore the magis- 

Goro is a fool I" nai/ ., t, 
dropped like the sound rf a Ir^u^'^' T*^ » ■">*« that 
*^?. "I-ethimcanyhoiShL^^^l"' ^^"^'l^t of much 
over his wool-beating. wrm''!^''^«°d shake his flanks 
than by showing hE tun-shawlL""'^'.'""" *^*^ay 
everybody might measure hK«^^^ V^" ^^^ as tf 
paunch. The burdens ttat harm LT' '{ ''' "^^ "^ ^^ 
oawass and his idleness." "^ '"°*' are his heavy 

The speaker had ioinn.! ti,« 



26 



ROMOLA. 



W 






for whom all tha world instinotively makes way, as it would 
for a battering-ram. He was not much above the middle 
height, but the impression of enormous force which was con- 
veyed by his capacious chest and brawny arms bared to the 
shoulder, was deepened by the keen sense and qriet resolu- 
tion expressed in his glance and in every furrow of his cheek 
and brow. He had often been an unconscious model to Do- 
menioo Ghirlandajo, when that great painter was making the 
walls of the churches reflect the life of Florence, and transkt- 
ing pale aerial traditions into the deep color and strong lines 
of the faces he knew. The naturally dark tint of his nkin 
was additionally bronzed by the same powdery deposit that 
gave a polished black surface to his leathern apron : a deposit 
which habit had probably made a necessary condition of per- 
fect ease, for it was not washed oft with punotiUous regu- 
larity. 

Goro turned his fat cheek, and glassy eye on the frank 
speaker with a look of deprecation rather than of resentment. 

"Why, Niccol6," he said in an injured tone, "I've heard 
you sing to another tune than that, often enough, when you've 
been laying Ac wn the law at San Gallo on a festa. I've heard 
you say yourself that a man wasn't a mill-wheel, to be on the 
grind, grind, as long ts he was driven, and then stick in his 
place withoot stirring when the water was low. And you're 
as fond of your vote as any man in Florence— ay, and I've 
heard you say, if Lorenzo " 

" Yes, yes," said Niocol6. "Don't you be bringing up my 
speeches again after you've swallowed them, and handing 
them about as if they were none the worse. I vote and I 
speak when there's.any use in it: if there's hot metal on the 
anvil, I lose no time before I strike; but I don't spend good 
hours in tinkling on cold iron, or in standing on the pave- 
ment as thou dost, Goro, with snout upward, like a pig under 
an oak-tree. And as for Lorenzo— dead and gone before his 
time— he was a man who had an eye for curious ironwork; 
and if anybody says he wanted to make himself a tyrant, I 
say <Sia; I'U not deny which way the wind blows when 
every man can see the weathercock.' But that only means 
that Lorenzo was a crested hawk, and thero are plenty of 



.'m. 



^:::x9mJT'm^.'m- 



"THB SHIPWHUCKID BTHANQER. 



that Marzooco ' might ah^rti.^ "' "' * "*1 "fo'n>, «o 
of dipping his healt! Sthe Lr/rl^r »«*^' ^"^^"^ 

-o„gthetooliU3eJrr„r.:t"\« '^ r^-aS 
toon ,B oomiog, aad the scourgrf. a't hln? T.°^ *"'"^''- 
Church is purged of oardinaUsld n~i ^ /"'' "^^n ">• 
Inheritance that their ha^d^ La^ be'^Slt '''"' '?^'' ^ ^« 
Wood and to satisfy their ownTstT tl^ s^ ^''^,^'' P™« "' 
too-and Florcnoe'^wiU be^uSo^ ™.^. "'",•* P"8ed 
avarice and lechery under tte^reThat a^r.^"^" >'"' *° "«« 
it gives them the soreenof . 1 v^? *** "''" because 
own." ""**» °* » "'o™ hellish vice than thei^ 

"Ay, as Goro's broad bodv wouM k« . 
row person in case of missZ .CdVl,* "".fr *°' ""y ""■ 
oeUent screen haprsaedtofln f «"'»! "but if that ex- 
enough. That i^ no td £1 J?,' ""^^ ""<'«' i'. "-"e^y 
of the Frate's, for I W^S!! .* '^"'«' ^"">i-or, rather, 

«iedof theoomingtoetT^f-^f^ A''b<'* -^"""^i" Proph^ 
Girolamo has gof the mes^ge^t^h'^'H^T '"'' "°' ^ 

work of thine m^M thynSso /f *"* P'«»We tailor's 
thy eyeballs can see naught X'e th« J-^ v"^* ""^ ^«8«' "^at 
roof of thy own skull '' * *^* stitohmg-board but the 

The .tone Lion, emblem of the Bepubllo. ^ 



" BOHOLJl 

n%. But Niooott gave him no opportonity for replying; tor 
he turned away to the pursuit of his market boaineis, prob- 
ably considering further dialogue as a tinkling on cold iron. 

Miene," said the man with the hose round his neck, who 
htd lately migrated from another knot of talkers, "they are 
safest who cross themselves and jest at nobody. Do you 
know that the Magnifioo sent for the Frate at the hist, and 
couldn't die without his blessing?" 

" Was it so— in truth? " said several voices. " Yes, yea- 
God will have pardoned him." "He died like the best of 
Christians. " " Never took his eyes from the holy crucifix." 
" And the Tmte will have given him his blessing? " 
"Well, I know no more," said he of the hosen; "only 
Guooio there met a footman going back to Careggi, and he 
told him the Frate had been sent for yesternight, after the 
Magnifico had confessed and had the holy sacraments." 

"It's likely enough the Frate wiU tell the people something 
about it in his sermon this morning; is it not true, Nanni?" 
said Goro. " What do you think? " 

But Nanni had already turned his back on Goro, and the 
group was rapidly thinning; some being stirred by the im- 
pulse to go and hear "new things" from the Frate ("new 
ttings" were the nectar of Florentines); others by the sense 
that It was time to attend to their private business. In this 
general movement, Bratti got close to the barber and said,— 
" Nello, you've a ready tongue of your own, and are used to 
worming secrets out of people when you've once got them weU 
lathered. T picked up a stranger this morning as I was com- 
ing in from Eovezzano, and I can spell him out no better than 
I can the letters on that scarf I bought from the French cava- 
lier. It isn't my wits are at fault,— I want no man to help 
me toll peas from paternosters,— but when you come to for- 
eign fashions, a fool may happen to know more than a wise 
man." 

"Ay, thou hast the wisdom of Midas, who could turn rags 
and rudty nails into gold, even as thou dost," said Nello, "and 
he had also something of the ass about him. But where is 
thy bird of strange plumage? " 

Bratti was looking round, with an air of disappointment 



*%^y><K 



mjt 



BRKAKPAST FOB LOVj. 39 

•h»U find him in the mS' iJ '«°* ^- B»* "« 

they pu.hed'':hiri:;s;^pr^.Th:^^^^^^^^^^^ ^*«'r 

way of out aod cloth on thi^idd. th. w 1 ^ *, v "*'' '" ""« 
pnole a FlorentinT-' ^°'^ Sepulchre that oan 

an'£;aro"r;t:s>'' ^""-^ --^ ^^ ^^ - 
.^ge^s^iotSef ri::^^Srsix S'Sh*'" 

object they r« 1^ 2K. ""*'* ■"«'* "' ""' '"^«-««<»l 



CHAPTEB IL 

»MAK»AST FOB lovi. 

eral agitation, and not m^ch cSStrk^^rTf* ^^^ «*"■ 
ably of little interest to^y M C H^Jh "* "^ ^'j'^ 
same tired of waiting fnr TZtv. ^orentines, soon be- 

round the p°aXlooki„J^^f " """'*■ '"'* ''^™'<' to "t^oU 

might hap^n h^Sfe:, * £T; """"" °' ''***"» -^o 
public newr R„f otiVwu * average curiosity about 

L.tiLThis Sd-^ii^^'^p^-fris^f/^^^^^^^^^ 

^^a^^aud explored it a^ain^d 4S':*t^^riroflS! 
"Not an obolus, by Jupite,, » j,, ^^^^ ^^ ^ ^^^^ 



m 



ROMOLA. 




^ioh WM Bot Tmowi or even Italian. "I thought I had OM 
poor pieM left. I muat get my breakfa«t for love, then I " 

rt.f !. 1: TJ" *°?" """^ ■'•P' '»^" '*'°« it seemed likely 
ftat he had found a quarter of the market where that medium 
of exchange might not be rejected. 

In a corner, away from any group of talker., two mole* 
were standing, weU adorned with red taaeele and collar.. On. 
nf.™''«°f,T'lT'^° milk-veweh., the other a pair of pwi- 
mer. fiUed with herb, and wlad.. Besting her elbow on tt. 
neci. of the mule that carried the mUk, there leaned a youn* 
girl, apparenUy not more than .iiteen, with a red hood .u^ 
rounding her face, which was all the more baby-like in its 
prettmess from the entire concealment of her hair. The poor 
ohUd, perhaps, was weary after her labor in the morning fan- 
light in preparation for her walk to market from «>me oiteUo 

*w%",r "^l"*' °*' ^°' "''• "^"^^ to 1«^« 8°"» to sleep in 
that half-stonding, half-leaning posture. Kevertheless, our 
stranger had no compunction in awaking her, but the means 
he chose were k> genUe, that it raemed to the damsel in her 
dream as if a litUe sprig of thyme had touched her lips while 
.he was stooping to gather the herbs. The dream was broken, 
however, for she opened her blue baby-eyes, and started up 
with astonishment and confusion to we the young .tranger 
standing close before her. She heard him speaking to her in 
• voice which seemed so strange and soft, that even if she had 
been more collected she would have taken it for granted that 
he said something hopelessly unintelligible to her, and her first 
movement was to turn her head a little away, and lift up » 
comer of her green serge mantie as a Mreen. He repeiOed 
nis words, — 

" Forgive me, prettyone, fop awaking you. I'm dying with 
hunger, and the scent of mUk makes breakfast seem more de- 
sirable than ever." 
He had chosen the words " muoi> di/ame, " because he knew 
1^,? famUiar to her ears; and he had uttered them 

playfuUy, with the intonation of a mendicant. This time he 
was understood; the comer of the mantle was dropped, and in 
a few moments a large cup of fragrant milk was held out to 
Jum. He paid no further compliments before raising it to hit 



BRBAKPAST FOR LOVB. 



hung by the lide of the mule TnT-i. T^ ""° * ^« *'''''»> 
hi. onp, he saw a Lge vSi of bl^h M '''?«" "* «''""' 
-d caught a glance ofKut ejrttattem^ ^T"". '> 

T 1,. r^ 'P' *■' " y°»' o"" breakfast," he Tu'd « w« 

irZ^':Ly'^' '^«'-' ^^-*- A thtrd-thanS: 
wJiTarttiets; ^ rr ' "r *'" ^^^^ -^ ^"-^ 

«ft-Ji and a. the loTd^k e^^" l"'"'^*'"" "* ^"' 
the baby-face, it sfemed tnK« „?.t • "'"8er rested on 

hal'd'i t« llhLlTt* S^de^^tmrdl'" .'"'' ^^^« "" 
to make the bread sw!^ter^' ' ** ^« *" "«'*'" ki* 

make her orI=3 herS ^.tTfT\'^'^ » *Wng to 
•»ner of her'mtufto '': ^^^^JZ^'^^^'T "V 
too presuu.ptuou. stranger wa. CinTfo,;.aS Udl'l v" 

a^^?hrh^-Lr:£^^^^^^^^ 
I'll -r,^b:r:fange"rr i*;r; ^° ^°"'''* ''"^-' 

worse. Gol dance offTd findfit^ d.cers-or something 
you a t„ne to a little ^i^ tVt^ ^Tke"" ''" ^^' 

wira^gwT~rk;fg7fr::irj'~''^ r ^ -^^^ 

and Lis slight exwession of?. alarm and deprecation, 



KOIIOLA. 

bl^oe to th. tender b.by-f«,e of the little mddT-thT^ 

of reaembknoe which often eoems « more croaking AuA^ 

cr«i.i„g prophecy than that of the deatr.-h^ * " 

There was something irreaistihly propitiatina in that hHaVt 

«S erip:^ati'oi'' """ °" '^•*''"'^' "'•^"'""^ "»"' ''i"^ 

JSn^-^crmSt^-ormrtiLrai^o^s^ 

you look for all the world «, .illy .. a t^Ke" S'7^ 
«p.ide down «.d ha. got on hi. heel, again, rndwhat fo^ 
took. ha.t thou been after, Te.«ir'^ added, t^^i^g to 
ita» ?^<?'' '""""' ^"^"""^'^ *"» '" more'inn"iLg'to 
!^t^;„M f °' •''''' *^? "'* """l ^«*"»1''. it seem., av° 
*l\^^f'l!^^ '**•' « *J •<"• fo' any idle vaaJb^d 
ttat didn't like toatoop for it, thou .illy .taring »bbiI?T^ 

thee say a few Ave. without counting » 

h™ ^ ^r "l*^ T" P""y T"« *« t«king pity on a 
aSn^^'v '' 7^°^'^^ ^^'^ UMxpectedly'^thont ' 
twrT . " ^»pdwme face I^k. oo well when it frown* 
that I long to see it illuminated bj a .mile » ^ 

hvwu" *** 'I "^"^ "•"" P"** y™ "0 "«de of. Ton mar 

iMke a beauty-.potor two on that face of your, that dwU 

■poll your kw.ing on this .ide Advent" " ""i «>au 

A. Monna Ghita lifted her formidable talon, bv wav of 

»v^nif K °'^f "P ''"''°''*« »' t''" l^fo™. had been 

rotjNello? Doesn't his tongue smack of Vemee?" 

HnmwLv '"/?''* *^' '^'•^^ '" 8° undertone, "thy wis- 
dom hath much of the ass in it, as I told thee just iow eZ- 
oially about the ears. This stranger is a Grelk. else I'm n^^t 



BRIAKTAST FOR LOVE. 33 

my mxor. " ' '^ " '""*' ^^^^ ^ h" had • touch of 

tit?" ' ' itranger bwin misbehaving him- 

i>o«...or of i.w,ir'^h TrStrr'"i *'; •"•"""^ <^ 

meant to get into mi«!hief I ™„ 'f '""° ""' " he 

under the Loggia de' Sf J^^^ ?^"" ''"' ^ '""^d him 
I've seen w^n L Bern^do V n ""5°° •"• «°8er .uch « 

•dmiring the oha?m. o7 mISI GWt^*i" ^o presumptuou. in 

to find Monna Ghito heiT^ S it,""!*'' «~"^ '°'*"°« 
from her daughter, and had ac^L/fV '^■/ '"? °' ""''^ 

^IViSent^^^^-^XfaS^^^^^^^^^ 

tiU I pay to^et !U":7t°"^,,°'^°"'„'''""^ ata/inpnrgatorr 
fiercely, flbolEj do Id^l"^""? '"'* ^''"°'' ^'''^ 
to compel the Btf4er toS^ LmI '"""Tef^ '7. """'^ "' "^ 
ton, bring forward thy mule a bit tl,; n J"'.'^ 'J""" "«Ple- 

As Tessa turned to take rt' „ w f . ' ''«"P°n"8-" 
timid glance atTheslanIi who ' ''"''^"' "'"' '"'»* <»"» 

out of the way of L tpp'CchTng Z^ZT''"', T f "° 
wa. just long enough t^/sei.e d SiSo^^n't' KL' 



84 



BOHOLA. 



han(^ which indicated that he had been watching for tUi 
opportumly of an adieu. 

"^ien^" said Bratti, raising his voice to speak across th« 
cart; I leave you with NeUo, young man, for there's no 
pushing my bag and basket any farther, and I have business 
at home. But you'U remember our bargain, because if you 
found Tessa without me, it was not my fault. Nello will 
show you my shop in the Ferravecchi, and I'll not turn my 
back on you." ' 

«n^'i*^T"'*.""'^' "*°'^'" '"^ the stranger, laughing, 
and thm turned away with Nello up the narrow street whiS 
led most directly to the Piazza del Duomo. 



CHAPTBB m. 

THE BASBEb's shop. 

"To ten you the truth," said the young stranger to Nello, 

, ^.?°* * ^'"^^ "^*"*'' °^ **« entangled vehicles and 
mnles^ I am not sorry to be handed over by that patron of 
mine to one who has a less barbarous accent, and a less enig- 
matacal business. Is it a common thing among you Floren- 
tines for an Itinerant trafficker in broken glass and rags to talk 
M a shop where he sells lutes and swords? " 

"Common? No: our Bratti is not a common man. He 
baa a theory, and lives up to it, which is more than I can sav 
for any philosopher I have the honor of shaving," answered 
JNeJlo, whose loquacity, like an over-full bottle, could never 
pour forth a smaU dose.' « Bratti means to extract the utmost 
possible amountof pleasure, that is to say, of hard bargaining, 
out of this life; winding it up with a bargain f or the easiefi 
possible passage through purgatory, by giving Holy Church 

made to that effect on the cheapest terms a notary could bo 
got for. But I havfl often said to him, ' Bratti, thy bargain 
IS a limping one, and thou art on the lame side of it Does 
It not make thee a little sad to look at the pictures of the 



■w*% 



THE BABBEB'8 SHOP. 35 

tmder; andexoeptwithS^BiS^'tl.r*^" ^.^''"°' 
about in an inconvenient manneTl ^T^' T """"" ^" ""^ 
ing a bargain for aeoolTiTT' , T °° ***""« °f % mak- 

"this light talk iU besee^fl" ^ "^ f""* ""^'^g himself, 

and the Mu«sareteLt?theriSr^T '°'^™°^'' '"^ ^^ 
to a barber; and you yXeU !^'-'^""'y'"»Painful thought 
cloud, for .hen I2IT^^ fpTh'lT ''""^"^ ""'^''' * 
with 80 sorry a night's iJeZTl ^"*"""' *»k« "P 

have befallM hini5' ^ ^' "*"®' """"^ misfortune to 

^^^B^7ZlX':^'^'r'^yo-''^ot?'' said 

t««e»t on VsS^^hTye nc^f::,''"/'*'' *°° '^°"» "^^ «- 
followed it. °'*'*^ "•« ""llreot inquiry that 

"What Lorenzo? Thera ig i,.,* 

whose death could throw tt6Mer^to°tl^r""' ' '^'^'' 
lantern of the Dnomo leanhi^fn^ ^*° "P'""' "' <*« 
lions of the Bepublfoto f^r* L '^"'*"'°' '^^ «""« "»« 
derourone anotter i J^ r^*' «n unmediate necessity to 

of our Atheni^if i may X^X° ^'' ^"^"^ *^'' ^«^^«- 
a Greek." ««7mate such a comparison in the ear of 

whXut';;e:i'i:iti'^„?^^7'y= "fondoubt 

duced so learned a barber » ^ ™'*"' """'"l '>»^« Pn>- 

xaSC'-el^llteLrv^'dtr *" "'"'«'''»." ^aid the 
oondila to httle Ziwse bill, ^""V'"" ^'^'^^'' Cal" 
your Italian is CCthihKou^h'h 7'°?!^"°"'^"= 
forty years-better even t£' tta? of th^ '*'° ^,''^y 
Marullo, who may be said tn w- • , ^^ accomplished 
more senses th;m one^^j!^ have married the Italic Muse in 
lovely Alessand^ST*^ ^^ '"" "^'^^ °^ learned and 

Grli^sSkpttdriJi^^ti,*" "rr "'''' ^ -- o' « 

J^^-trees wU have'tSr sT iTcSft^^r I'tst "•"■ 

s^r/a:r(5,:r;e;irucr«^* "^ ^ - ^<^^--? 

a ureek very much as your peaches are Persian. 



3« 



ROUOIA. 




The Greek dye waa robdued in me, I guppwe, tiU I had be«i 
of gods and heroes. And, to confess something of my privSe 

Ltww k":' "■ *^% ^f'y ''"'™« ''•^p'''««'' j"« left r 

But-when the towers fall, you know it is an ill business for 

W. J w ? "^^^ "y ***P« to'^d Eome, as I should 
have done but for a fallacious Minerva in the shape of an 

a cTwd'^jrr"'- l^J ^'"«'' •»« ""-^ ' y°« will £ 10 t" 
Zr»,^V"T^~\°'"'" •>"* at Florence every comer S 
pmietrated by the sunshine of Lorenzo's patronage- Flor™™ 
« ^ebe^t market in Italy for such oomm^^^-Cyois!^ 

K^nZ . ^*™"l" •'* ^"^ » '"S^ melon, every ott« 

SrC^l." ". ^r^''^' ^ ""PP""'- Have we not Be^ 
nardo Euoellai, and Alamanno Binucoini, and plenty more? 
And If you want to be informed on such maters" L nZ 
«m your man. It seems to me a thousand years ti^l i Z^ 
te^Zr ? **' "T^" ^^ y"""""- A first oi 7, t 
™n./^ - '^ ^°"^ ^- '^^* 1^*^ "y fine young niiT 
must be parted with, were it as dear to yon as the nylXS 
yo^ dreams. Here at Florence, we love not to si a m^ 

been shaven : if you repent, and let your beard wow after it 

mout^Slv'^A"'' t' " ■"^'<^'' -* the^Lor^ Jr* 
Z^)hT^- ^""^ ^^ "^"^ "" ^""S"' '^l'** Cesser Angelo 
oalls the divine prerogative of lips, but will appear like a dwk 
oavem fringed with horrent brambles." 
1* '""""i" * *?™^'* prophecy," said the Greek, "especiaUv 
htUe Tessa I stole a kiss from this morning „ *^ ' "" '"' 
.•nt„ <r*I '''^ ^ * rough-handed contadina: you will rise 

^ of a7J? ^"* ^*^'" ""'^' y°" """"* n°* have the 

Ho^jtr"' V,"""/' '"" "P"*«= y°« niust look like 
a courtier, and a scholar of the more polished sort, such as our 



THE BARBER'S SHOP. 37- 

chance tavern." '"'" "^' "*"<' <*»■ '""o in a 

«n! ^'"^ "^^"'y ^**'*' " «^d the Btraneer « If th. wi 
tine Graces demand it I am mllino, f • "* ^^loren- 

matterof mybeard, but—!? ^ *° ^'"' "P *" """^1 

"Ye8, yes," interrupted Nello. "T tnnw _», i 
wy. It is the bella »azzera-L h.,^T ^"' ^""^ """'d 
not choose to part with I^Tw„ ^'"'""^'°'' ^°''''''' y<« do 
pruning-ecco^and you wm lo^k nJ° ^l'"^" /"^* » "«1« 
prince Pico di MirandXiT L^rime And'h'^ '""''^°"' 
good time in the Piazza San «;;; *' . ^*™ ^^ ^'a in 
shop. But you fre nau^^ t "' """^ "* "'^ "^""^ "^ ""T 
lookatourwonde^rfftew^M *«''= "^t^'^lly, you want to 
del Fiore. WeU wl a Z ' ?" ^"°r' °" ^anta Maria 
leave a closer su^eTtiCThav^r''' t"' ^ "^"^^ y°" »<> 
ing with the inSi;'?m';7rt'"e"e:t':ie ' "" "r^'' 
>ny razor. Ah, then, come roLl^way » '^ ^ *" "' 

he could see^ once the C^rshSfo'f'^^'^T'f 
slender soaring grace of Gi^^^T^ snell of the cupola, the 

octagon of SanX:^„TinW of theTt' '^' *?*' ^"*'"* 
gates of storied bronze wMch «till L S' *°'"°« '^ ""'I*"* 
glory of their origSS ' S Th^Z^^ '""T^* '*''^«'» 
fresher in their oiiA. anH Iv. .^'^ """"*« ^e'« tl>en 
now, when toTwLters^f fot ' '""^ P^^P'*' *^ "^^y ««> 
white to the rich och"e1fw.n „""'!. ^"^^ t«™e<l their 
fasade of the cathS dt n^ T^" '°«"-^--'' t^e 
•tuoco, but had upon it the m»l?^ . *"°"'"'"'"'' ^ ^a^ed 
completed marbleXlyinXjTtotuff ?r"'°f '^^^ half- 
had devised a hundred ^dfiTf! "'"'"f ""='>««. which Giotto 
panile in all its haxmon^u» v^^r'*'^^"*' *'"^ «« *^ <="■"- 

eyes upward, Mgh"rrjrat°fSA"''/°™ '^-^ ''' 
seemed aprophetio symbol, teu" g^°t hum^PS^ ^^S' it 
how and sometime sharw. ;,.„„,/ .~^""°*"'™ must some- 
aspiring beau4 ^ ^'° '^'"'''* ^■"' tJ^at Pnre 



88 



ROHOM. 



•tood with h « arm. folded and his ourli falling backward, 
tliere wa. a slight touch of scorn on his lip, and when his e^ 
fen agjun they glanced round with a scanning coolness whW^ 
was rather p.quing to Nello's Florentine spirit. 

Well, my fine young man, " he said, with some impatience. 

knnw ?f r""' '*'"*'" *""" ^"'^^- I 'hoild like to 

know ,f you have ever seen finer work than our Giotto's 

the s^de of Brunelleschi's there, or any marbles finer or mo™ 
cunningly wrought than these that our Signoria got from f.^ 
off quarries, at a price that would buy a dukedom. Come, 
now have you ever seen anything to equal them? " ^ 

throa^ after the Turkish fasWon, or even your own razo^" 

Z <^I/„T.! ^^^J "^^^ 8»y'y' '^'i ^o^^e o" toward 
tte gates of the Baptistery, "I dare say you might get a con- 
fession of tte true faith from me. But with my th^«,? ^e 
fcomperd I venture to tell you that your buildings sm^k toS 
much of Chnstian barbarism for my teste. I have a Zddw! 
ZhC !?"* '^*" " inside-hideous smoked Madonn«i 
LTZkri "'♦^"'"'^ '"^^ '^•"" '^"'^ astonishme" 
»«J! fT J?" "P""' ^^-o^""! "■'"lotons hanging on 
M««s, or stuck .11 over with arrows, or stretched on gnt 

tTt?™ tT '"'* """"^ ''"'^ ''•"^ "''■« ^ P^P*"""! lamen- 
tation. I have seen enough of those wry-necked favorites of 

heaven at Constentinople. But what is tiis bronze dZ^u^h 
with imagery? These women's figures seem moulded in a 
different spirit from those starved and storing saintsTsAe 

^L Tn^'^r,''??' "'■*' ^1^ "* » '"'"«» mind i 

^^ "ii^l"' ^*'' " l*'^ ^*"°' "''^ ~"°« triumph. « I think we 
■shall show you by and by that our Plorentiie art is Wk a 
state erf barbarism. These gates, my fine young ma^ wtr^ 
^oulded haW a century ago, by our Loren^ Ghiber^SZ^ 
he Munted hardly so many years as you do." ' 

Ah, I remember," said the stranger, turning awav like 
«ne who«, appetite for contemplation wu soon sfti^i^^' « ? 



i ^hr^. » 



THB BARBBR8 SHOP. g^ 

•I'd the legend, of Tad heSte .^^i '"I"'?''' ^"^ °«^<"». 
vi.ion of Olympus iUelf woJm hT* '"^"' '"" ""''J^t". ^e 

"I underitai^d ,» „ d N«I1^ ■1"°"" """ *° *•■•"•" 
ti^ey walked alo„;. "YofSoTfh * "'«""*'"'* •'"'»»' " 
MmuIIo, ay, and a. Angl P„i.°w \'''^"' ""*•"• « Miohele 
oanonicate,'when "elelaxe, wit??° ^Zf'' "" 'P'** «" J"" 
hi" leotnres, and talk, of the ™S! " u*'" '" "^ "^"P "^fr 
•leep and making the woS f„^ r*'""^ ^'°'° *''"' '""K 
But he rail, againat ^7 R^.* f f""" "'^ ""O" ">"« 
«. all talk Lat^a^ain, .5re^''°\''i*"' "''? "'"'* *« -•ke 
flayed by the barbwiam. of th« ^' ! '*^'' »'« ""ffloiently 
to talk Utin I wouin. ^f hi ^' "^"^ " *'"' ^8" »« 
they took to beating ^ X\l, ^•''" ^ ^°"«"» 'h% day 
bell, were not enough to atv tht^ !? ')" "''^ ^'"^o the 
Me«K,rGreoo.ifyrw1nt^S'ortt^i^*''«/»'"t,.. Ah. 

?h.p, you must fr^„e„t my shoo Tt ^JT °' °" ~^°'«- 
""telleot, and in toat .enw th^ n! ,^! ^'^'^ °' Florentine 
Pleat predece^dr, B^hTeHo ^Vc^A" ^ •*^-'"' "-^ 
fnvolou. pretenei^n that hi^' ."iVrh- r ^'- "^ *" ""'«' 
centre of our city. And he™ „« !^\ Calimara was the 

and the Bazor.'^ ApoSo you II "'.!* *' "'«" "''ApoUo 
the Triptolemu, of Cc/Jt Z" sl^''°'"^« '^'> «^^oa 
•ublime Anonimo, who.e w.t^rio„. "^ "T'- "^ '*"''«' *^ 
a .hadowy hand." ""yeteriou. identity is indicated by 

KilddilJr,oKnt^- tr^. Sandro,- .tinned 
way for them on tteX Md •" « a'?*" ^°°*''' "-"^e 
for this signor to sit down i„d . ** "°T """ke all clear 

"" ^i/r: ^" '-ed -andrhSTe £",r-"^<^ 

BtJ^. tkin7SSh?£t?r°" *'*"' ^ -'" -^^ '^« 
shop from a rj^m Jftnt !^^!? l-"^ "^^^ ^"^'^'^ ^e 
-mailer walled enclos^ wl™ a fJT.: °^'°« ^*° " '>*"1 
rounded a. tone Hermw « I ^„l!^ ^^^ "^^ '">»»''' "«'- 
meets there? •• ^ '"PP°*" y°»' eonelare of erudit{ 

waSle'trri:. ^ w/iej^el'"'^'' ^ "' ""^«^ ""o 
"om, in which were some benches, a table, 



10 



BOHOLA. 



II. :• 



U i 



■^-w^ 



71 



with ono book m manuBoript and one printed in oapitaU lyin* 
open upon .t, a lute, a few oU-.ketohe8. and amiiel or two 
of handa and ancient masks. "For my shop is a no leia 
fitting haunt of the Muses, as you wiU acknowledge when you 
feel the sudden illummation of understanding and the serene 
vigor of inspiration that will come to you with a clear chin. 
Ah I you can make that lute discourse, I perc^.ve. I, too. 
have Bome skill that way, though the serenata is useless when 
daylight discloses a visage like mine, looking no fresher than 
M apple that has stood the winter. But look at that sketch • 
It is a fancy of Piero di Cosimo's, a strange freakish painter' 
who says he saw it by long looking at a mouldy wall." 
The sketch NeUo pointed to represented three masks-one 

Th-Z" r l"*u"l* ^f'^'' '°°""" " Bonowing Magdalen, and 
the third, which lay between them, the rigid, cold face of a 
Stoic : aie masks rested obliqtiely on the lap of a litUe child, 
whose cherub features rose above them with something of the 
supernal promise in the gaze which painters had by that time 
learned to give to the Divine Infant. 

inJtll^n^"^ r*"*', ^ "**' " "^^ """ y°»°8 Greek, touch- 
ing the lute while he spoke, so as to bring out a slight musical 
murmur. "The child, perhaps, is the Golden Age, wantbg 
neither worahip nor philosophy. And the Golden Age can al- 
ways come back as long as men are born in the form of babies, 
ajid don t come into the world in cassock or furred mantle! 
^: ^«fj'd "nay mean the wise philosophy of Epicurus, re- 
moved alike from the gross, the sad, and the severe." 

Ah! evejbody has his own interpretation for that pic- 
ture,' said Nelloj "and if you ask Piero himself what'^he 
meant by it, he says his .pictures are an appendix which Messer 
Domeneddio has been pleased to make to the universe, and if 

nil J°r7 " r "^"j; V!!* *^*y ""^' '"' J""i bote' ^^^"o of 

sketch but he puts his fingers to his ears and shakes his head 

w.!^ 'i> . I " P*"*- ^^ "*y«-» ^""'Ke a^i-^al. our 

«ero. But now all is ready for your initiation into the mys- 
teries of the razor. ' 

"Mysteries they may well be called," continued the barber, 
with rismg spirits at the prospect of a long monologue, as h^ 



THK BARBERS SHOP. 



41 



tten'. thought., beo.u«T^.eiS th^LTV. '/" ""« «»''« «' 
•having. (Ahl you wTuceTutS .^ h 'he first aom.nt after 

the peculiar fitness of a barbed. ... . ."'"' " "hatmake. 

wit and learning. For lo^k n™ . ''.*° '"^'«°« • «»ort of 
i. . duU oonolava at the S^of ^The M^Tf' "'°P= *''«• 
rival n,inei but what sorf of in.nW V u^"* P"'«»d» ^ 
be got from the .cent ^f nau.^^ vl?'J '^''*'''' y°"' «"« 
My nothing of the fact tLt „„ vegetable decoctions 7-to 
tW you see a doS of'^riiTJ" ^"' ■''"' "^""^"^ 
guised in fur and scarlet, w.hL\ f or t*'*"""" '?''''" <!*«• 
him blocking up the doorwly s^ ' '''If''^.' °' "'"'' "^ 
ing .aliva. (Your chia a littie ri^ln %'^''^, '"'"'' '"'Peo*- 
template that angel who is bWin^T',"- '' P"'-" you : con- 
toe oeUing. I had it painted «°* , V"""!** »* y°» from 
ay clients' chins.) bCIs vo,^ / ^ '"' *'"' "8"l.tionof 
•nd decocts, is a m^an of ^t 'ndC ^T"' '"° '"'"»"«» 
•ocorduig to a system, and is obH«;i ? ^'•,l~'">ned people 
*»»• .to justify the oonsequenc^^'^Now/t'L"'' '"'''• •^- 
PMsionate; the only thUi^ h«^ „ J. ', ^^' """ he dis- 
r««.r. always proving hf iJnotT!;"? "'^^'' ^^ " *''• 
flaw in my great predl^r fi^v^C ^^ ^^' '"« *he 
had consequently I prejudTe aC hf. ^^ """ ' ^^ ""d 
escaped that, I saw ve^r e^j/X t auth ?■ P***^' ^ '"'^«» 
busmess. in conflict mth the hwf^ f '? " " "*"owing 
demands an impartial aff^tton^ n' °^ ""* '»«». which 
Mesjer. the ouUine of youT.hS'a'^d r'" "*^'- ^. 
■awden's: and now fix your Jnd„'"'\''P '" " clear as i 
yourself whether you are boLTf '"•,? J^»t^ question-ask 
^ .and say if you r n S an^T" T*^«" ''*^ " » » »- 
Pomt Only, if you decide for arr?"" ^^'^^ °» the 
your fortune is ni^de, for theTha^h XT '* *° y""^"*" ^^ 
Florence. Ahl 1 think I «L « , V'^^'^Ker foUowing in 
your eye. I have t on the aufc /*"' ^"•'"''' ^'^ « 
Maochiavelli. himself keen enouef to d^ "' ""^ y""°» ^'«=o'^ 
M we say, and a great lover of Iv . '^? ^^^'^ '^' «o^o, 
beard is hardly of Wo yS °J^^«^'« "having, though hi; 
•' * aau(, that no sooner do the hairs 







f? 






•■ ROMOLA. 

begin to pmh tbemielTM, than h« p«ro«iTM k Mrtain groH 
ncM of appraheniion oraeping orer him." 

"BuppoMyou l«t me look at mytalf," laid the itrangw, 
laughing. " The happy nffect on my inteUaot is perbapa ob- 
structed by a little doubt as to the effect of my appearance." 

"Behold yourself in this mirror, then) it is a Venetion 
mirror from Murano, the true noiea teipium, as I hare named 
it, compared with which the finest mirror of steel or silver is 
mere darkness. Bee now, how by diligent shaving, the nether 
region of your face may preserve its human outline, instead 
of presenting no distinction from the physiognomy of a 
bearded owl or a Barbery ape. I have seen men whose beards 
have so invaded their cheeks, that one might have pitied them 
as the victims of a sad, brutalizing chastisement befitting our 
Dante's Inferno, if they had not seemed to strut with a strange 
triumph in their extravagant hairiness." 

"It seems to me," said the Greek, still looking into the 
mirror, "that you have taken away some of my capital with 
your razor -I mean a year or two of age which might have 
won me more ready credit for my learning. Under the in- 
spection of a patron whose vision has grown somewhat dim, I 
shall have a perilous resemblance to a maiden of eighteen in 
the disguise of hose and jerkin." 

" Not at all, " said Nello, proceeding to clip the too extrava- 
gant curls; "your proportions are not those of a maiden. 
And for your age, I myself remember seeing Angelo Poliziano 
begin his leotuies on the Latin language when he hadayounger 
beard than yours j and between ourselves, his juvenile ugliness 
was not less signal than his precocious scholarship. Whereas 
you— no, no, your age is not against you; but between our- 
selves, let me hint to you that your being a Greek, though it 
be only an Apulian Greek, is not in your favor. Certain of 
our Boholars hold that your Greek learning is but a wayside 
degenerate plant until it has hem transplanted into Italian 
brains, and that now there is such a plentiful crop of the 
superior quality, your native teachers are mere propagators of 
degeneracy. Eccol your curls are now of the right proportion 
to neck and shoulders; rise, Messer, and I will free you from 
the encumbrance of this cloth. Gnaffi I I almost advise yon 



THE BARBIRS 8B0P. 43 

•djnlwtion with • look of ^n..M ", ^""'' • '""templativ. 

in what quart., 1 1^ to ' Jl ' » T^"^^' " """ <1""»'°° '". 
from th...id Weroo^dS'"'!,'':'"''^ ""' """ '" "" 
Wing .ha« thi, «Z1S; hoat te 2X1' T""' "' 

not conceal f n,m y^ that1h.™1 . '""?" "'"'• " ^ »'" 
•mong U8i and though a. a iL »i ''"^'"'"" •K"'"' ""^kt 
rtare no prejudFcM I Itt^ ,^>T'""^ ^^ authorship, I 
alway. .uch pretty 'vo..n«.l ""' *•"' ''" ^rwk* are not 
oftenof anunoomU " "^^""y""'"''-' '•""' '"""ition i. 

a barbarou. uttorS'oTS'"'',rr"' """^ '"""•"«<» »'"' 
lordly more .uThTnTo«thI^t?'f/'j?'f''' ^"""^ «"•-"- 
viaou.loquacitrXrth« ^'*,*''"^'^'''«' '» • •*»»• of 
tine, ha/e libeL id^« .^'Z^'"'.'*'^" me-we Floren- 
in.trum.nt S can flatter and"*^'' !""* '^"'" ^^at an 
tongue mu.t hay. ^nZ^f ^d promia, «o cleverly m the 

tbat t?„th i. a riddSr'tS^ itw^J'to'Tr '^""^ ^"^ 

«7. Bu^l:r;KSSAl'rt^h''T''*'°"*^^^^^ 

•t what i. th. hangine-Doint l^h „ \''J ''°"«'*y ^"'P^* 

ooa«=iencethaVhewSildZk? f"'-^''*'' " of so «u,ya 
oorpM. " ^"^ °"*' ' 'tepprng-stone of his father'. 

B.t?r:uro;rnVoaiirt£sr::'''* '--^ ^ 

haa^^ed to atone for rw°rof\S'rc: «~^-'-'' ^•"'' 
heart m;S;''S !:(.~'- ^. - »«» rep«.ti„g what I 
the cream wWch'S nW^ ^"1""' "^ '''°^"*"'«' » "-nply 

Ana forth^t ^UZrS^lr^ZTl^r^Z 




** ROXOUL 

VMo, in a mon mooUng tone^ and with a tigniHoant friaaec 
"Uie fact ii, you are lieretioi, MeMar; Jaalouiy liai notLing 
to do with it: if you would juit ohango your opinion about 
laaven, and altar your Doxology a littla, our Italian loholara 
would think it a thouiand years tUl they could give up their 
ohalre toyou. Yea, yei; it i* chiefly religious scruple, and 
I*rUy also the authority of a great classic,— Juvenal, is it 
not? He, T gather, had his bUe as much stirred by the 
swarm of Greeks as our Messer Angelo, who is fond of quot- 
ing some passage about their incorr^ble impudence— awfaoia 
perdita." 

" Pooh I the passage is a compliment," said the Greek, who 
had recovered himself; and seemed wise enough to take the 
matter gayly,— 

"■Inganlum valox, sudMla perdlu, Mrmo 
rromptni, et lueo torrratlor. ' 

A rapid intellect and ready eloquence may carry off a littla 
impudence." 

"Assuredly," said Nello. « And since, as I see, yon know 
Latin literature as well as Greek, you will not fall into the 
mistake of Giovanni Argiropulo, who ran full tilt against 
Cicero, and pronounced him all but a pumpkin-head. For, 
let me give you one bit of advice, young man— trust a barber 
who has shaved the best chins, and kept his eyes and mm 
open for twenty years— oil your tongue well when you talk 
of the ancient Latin writers, and give it an extra dip when 
you talk of the modem. A wise Greek may win favor among 
usj witness our excellent Demetrio, who is loved by many, and 
not hated immoderately even by the most renowned scholars." 

"I discern the wisdom of your advice so clearly," said the 
Greek, with the bright smile which was continually lighting 
up the fine form and color of his young face, " that I will ask 
you for a little more. Who now, for example, would be the 
most likely patron for me? Is there a son of Lorenzo who in- 
herits his tastes? Or is there any other wealthy Florentine 
specially addicted to purchasing antique gems? I have a fine 
Cleopatra cut in sardonyx, and one or two other intaglios and 
cameos, both curious and beautiful, worthy of being added to 



THl BARBBRH Bnop. ^ 

»»t on my r„y.g„. Mo J^'.;'","^h«uld'^ik:t"* ,•*'"« ' "^ 
•wn for my nre««iit niM»i «„ »i.i , ""'" "«» to 'tiw • tinaJl 
out the rtag'^«rS,d it "k.' "i! ""'"•" (' •« k. t^k 

tlm, to apply to IMepo de' Trtlf ♦, ' '^V' '"'*'''• '« "o 

Ithinkiti.L.othe, ^ t!f CWt IKr *'," ""^''•' ^' 
Ym. yei. 1 have it wk r ""P*"* thttheoovete mo«t. . 

^ootaea, bristling all over i^^iH T."' ^•"" '""""•d Po- 
^k and Latin are ouoomfo . V **"•' ''"' """ "^"^ 
i. Bartolonuneo Soala thT^ . ' '""y- '*'"» ">at man 
oame to Florence m • ;oS" d™'!*"'^ v ' "^ ^P"Wio. ^ 
-a' branny mon,?e„' Th,t»^' ^""""7' """"'» «»° 
lipped PoHzi.no, who tLl wi^v ''"""'^ byourhoney- 
•greewithlemon-juie,. ^^ bi^uJT .V "*" " ^^^ t^"* 
why the secretary may be1he mo™ ^' *^*.""'y ^ * '«~" 
• .trange .chola? For iTt^Z "^^ ^ '^° » 8°°^ *«"> *<> 
tmt a barber who h« iha^^ toaZit*"^ ?*' '" <^'^ 

1. njuoh .uch a .te«i a. Ser Sg^^.'^t :?,t::Sr'r ^^^ 
»lMri(y luleei it La* got the thi.ti! "of \ ^"^^^ "'""' ""'<''' 
However, the .ecreta^ , a nL^'^w lt:'^,."°"^« i*" taa 
•wn to the halvinjt of a f«n„^- a ,^ •"' """J «» von, 
buy «,me of yo^rl,ms » '■'^''' '"'* ^^ ^^ »«^ "»»k«iy » 

«Z"imXTtlJ "• ^ " *''" «"»* -•» ' " -d the Greek. 

a .tranger may find it difficult to ^,^t^o«°""»""?'' "'' 
mean time, I could take von i« . » ^ ?**• ^"* >" the 
c«. help y^u to a chSceKaSle'fl" i'" ''" * ^^^ 
•ooner than anybody else in FW^ interview with Soala 
own sake too, Viav „Jhi„! T'v?~''°'*^ "•*«« '<» hia 
daughter Ron^olt Z "st'^l ^" ^°"'*^°"'' °' »' "« 
it got quarrel*,m^e «.d t^'ed"^*^, *^' ^°^«"'^<» % before 



46 



ROHOLA. 



tur""^ '"^ ""^ *° '^^ •""• -^ -^ »•»• him- 

NeUo thrnggad liii dionldert. "For two good HMont- 
w«t of .ight to look .t th« gonu, «d w«>t of^qTw 
for them. Our old Eudo de' B«di i. k> blind tUt he «m 

•omething bright wh«n .h. comet very nearhL: doubU«M 

!^™1^^ ',"*!'" "^ "'"'•'•' *'~~' Ahl her. coma 
•ome diento of mine, ud I shouldn't wondM if on. of them 
oaaldeKTc your tun about that ring." ^^ 



CHAPTER IV. 

yiMT mPBBUIOBI. 

"Ooon-BAT, Meuer Domenioo," «dd Nello to the foremoet 

?W? r.J'"^" '''° •"**"** '^^ •''°P> '•>«• J" nodded 
•UenUy to the other. "You oome a. opportunely a. oheele 

out delay-eocol And this i. a morning when every one hM 
grave matter on hi« mind. Florence orphaned-the very 
flTJ '^^'?"°^'^1 .way-heaven itoelf at a lo., wh.7^ 
do next Otmif Well, well, the sun ieneverthelew travel- 
hng on toward dinner-time again, and as I was saying, you 
come like cheest ready grated. For this young stranger was 
wishing for an honorable trader who would advance him " 
sum on a certain ring of value, and if I had counted every 
goldsmith and money-lender in Florence on my fingers, I 
oouldn t have found a better name than Menioo Cennini. Be- 
sides, he hath other ware in which you deal-Greek learning. 
Sa5;s7nr;r."'""' ^^'•'"""* whichyouprmters J'e 
The grave elderly man, son of that Bernardo Cennini who. 
twenty years before, having heard of the new process of 
ptintiug earned on by Geimans, had oast his own types in 



1MT 11IPH18610N8. ^ 

to your correct editiW n^^^Zl „ """• <»™''ta''M even 
cued a few gem. oS JS^I^j, /r.TJ^''' "• ^T '-• 

fcom the .Cn^lott '°''^''' '""' "'"' «"«««i 

tl^-l»d kept hi. ey?^,:^"/: tS^^'";«r"»^«">«- 
•brupUy,— " wreek, and now laid 

you'd give me a .?X « "'"^ "^ ^°" '■"" '»' ""^ Si«on, 5 

Tito Melema utarted and looked rn.,n,i — -^t. 
ment In hi. f«je as L* ataVfTn^ T** ' P*'*' "toniah- 

UmnotimetneeirtriL * "x^i^; but Kello left 

J.d faacie. ever P^kSlTuLtTkL^^^.V^'-'r? 
thou play witi the fine visaee of iS^^T-! J^** ^'^ ""* 

»uit thy traitor? Aak l^rfa^er^ r^^''^"'" "°»^«>* 
and thou mayst make al^„ts«^,r *"".^"' "y"" "P'^d, 
troops of devout woLen- or if^^^''°J'^■'"" *^'" ""' ''"'^ 

put myrtle aboutlLourlsiidn^":.''* ^ " =''"•'«' ^''^' 
•ay rather a Vho^hl^llZ ^t^ * ''^« »*«''"'«. or 
bright as a summer ^S°: if J?« *'°\" f ^"■» «°d 
•Pweof a'oredo."' *' ^^* °" ^" '"«"d in the 

"Ay.NeUcv-saidthei^t^r.speakmg with abrupt pan«.. ; 





I 



48 



ROHOLA. 



and if thy tongue can leave off its everlasting ohirpinB lone 
enough for thy understanding to consider the matter; thou 
mayst see that thou hast just shown the reason why the face 
of Messere will suit my traitor. A perfect traitor should 
nave a face which vice can write no marks on— lips that will 
he with a dimpled smile-eyes of such agate-like brightness 
and depth that no infamy can dull them— cheeks that will rise 
from a murder and not look haggard. I say not this youne 
man 18 a traitor: I mean, he has a face that would make him 
the more perfect traitor if he had the heart of one, which is 
saymg neither more nor less than that he has a beautiful face 
informed with rich young blood, that will be nourished enough 
by food, and keep its color without much help of virtue He 
may hav5 the heart of a hero along with it; I aver nothing 
to the contrary. Ask Domenico there if the lapidaries can 
always tell a gem by the sight alone. And now I'm going to 
put the tow m my earp, for thy chatter and the bells together 
are more than I can endure: so say no more to me, but trim 
my beard." 

With these last words Piero (called "di Cosimo," from his 
master, Cosimo BosseUi) drew out two bits of tow, stuffed 
them m his ears, and placed himself in the chair before Nello 
who shrugged his shoulders and cast a grimacing look of intel- 
ligence at the Greek as much as to say, "A whimsical fellow 
you perceivel Everybody holds his speeches as mere jokes." 
Tito, who had stood transfixed, with his long dark eyes rest- 
ing on the unknown man who had addressed him so equivo- 
caUy, seemed recalled to his self-command by Piero's change 
of position, and apparently saHsfiedwith his explanation, was 
again givmg his attentidn to Cennini, who presently said — 

This 18 a curious and valuable ring, young man. This 
^ti^ho ofthe fish with the crested serpent above it, in the 
black stratum of the onyx, or rather nicolo, is well shown by 
the surrounding blue of the upper stratum. The ring hal 
doubtless, a history?" added Cennini, looking up keenlvTt 
the young stranger. 

«m,.^**' ^^^^" said Tito, meeting the scrutiny very frankly 

The rmg was found in Sicily, and I have understood from 

those who busy themselves with gems and sigils, that both the 



IBST mPRESSIONS. 



49 



pX siS".^ iir ,::,:sr r- ^^^^ 

have lo»t BuT" he contin„,r t- ^™ 'Whatever he m2 
it ^.nstanUy sinVl q'^ft^^^^C -«; " """"gh ^ have worj 
getter fortunate at Bea,TuS''^'""°''"'«i« -"e alto- 
eaoape from drowning as a sEnl' ""l'*' ^ "^ *» """"t 
remains to be seen whether '™'"«'" P'°°f "f its virtue. It 

b«ttolosenochl?otrch7SfM ""' T" *° «»»>' 
only to hold the ring for a short «,. ' '^T' ^ "i'lp^yyon 

~m far beneath its vZe ^ r wm' "/ ^^"^^ ^°' " ^^a^l 
oaa dispose of certain otherlV"^^™ " as soon as I 
>ny doublet, oriS as sLTt "'^''^ "" ''««°"'J ''ithin 
scholarly einploymrnt. tf Hav IT T '°'"«*^^8 ^y any 
Witt such." ""'='« ^ may be so fortunate as to meet 

8aid?ennS^^^7J^";"8»2,'*r''"°°'"''^>ame,» 
scholarship ttanl. wUWW^' Z^° '" "* better judge of 
task that may test'yir oaSbUitt v*° '""^f^ '°^ ^'^ * 
yourringuntUIe^ll°/P"„7^^^^^ *«^« ^^^ 

't pie,. , you, come al«.gVtrm?» '""'""^ '''^^' '«<^. « 

"8, yes," saidNeUo, "go with nr 
"annotgoinbettercomnanv. hi \ '''*'■ I*°menico, you 
tion ttat gives a mTS ri.h '^'?»"d« the const^! 
that constellation m^ S^hfcl 1^' oT^h""^^^' '^^''*«^«' 
^ause babies can't choose tte^ nil *''^ ^""^ consequence 
If ttey could, ttere m"TtL^''i„J2i'°'°'"°^^^ 
P«ticular epochs. B.'dd^, "^u" ^^1'!°' °' '*''<'^ «* 

s:^-wSris*s: Cthr^^ ^ -a-'-s-s 
"^rfLt;»^-^^^^^^^^^^^ ''^"'^'^ 

■no rear of that." said t;*-,- u i 
t>™ed round his bright"! afjh^ ""'«'. * ^^^' >^ he 
« great service :-ttft is tte L™, -V- ^"^ »« to do me 
aeeiag me again." '°°'* ^"''^^e security for your 

a* ttat withourtaking it as a si™ Tf 7 !!J ""'='' "^ °»*«ide 
thou wilt say ne^ff n^ "P ^ " '"""""^ mature. Why 

-gabout oK W^Lre'KZf''" ^' '^-^-i- 
4 maae nis Judas as beautiful as St 



w 



ROUOLA. 



John I But thou art as deaf as the top of Mount Morello 
with that accursed tow in thy ears. Well, well : I'll get a 
little more of this young man's history from him before I take 
him to Bardo Bardi." 




'It 



CHAPTER V. 

THB BLIND SOBOLiLB AKD BIS DAVSHTXB. 

T'aB Via de' Bardi, a street noted in the history of Fir moe, 
lies in Oltrarno, or that portion of the city which clothes the 
southern bank of the river. It extends from the Ponte Vec- 
ohio to the Piazza de' Mozzi at the head of the Ponte aUe 
Grazie; its right-hand line pf houses and walls being backed 
by the rather steep ascent which in the fifteenth century was 
known as the hill of Bogoli, the famous stone-quarry whence 
the city got its pavement— of dangerously unstable consist- 
ence when penetrated by rains; its left-hand buildings flank- 
ing the river and making on their northern side a length of 
quaint, irregularly pierced faqade, of which the waters give a 
softened loving reflection as the sun begins to decline toward 
the western heights. But quaint as these buUdings are, some 
of them seem to the historical memory a too modem substitute 
for the famous houses of the Bardi family destroyed by popu- 
lar rage in the middle of the fourteenth century. 

They were a proud and energetic stock, these Bardi- con- 
spicuous among those who clutched the sword in the earliest 
world-famous quarrels of Florentines with Florentines, when 
the narrow streets were darkened vrith the high towers of the 
nobles, and when the old tutelar god Mars, as he saw the gut- 
ters reddened with neighbors' blood, might weU have smUed at 
the centuries of lip-service paid to his rival, the Baptist. But 
tiie Bardi hands were of the sort that not only v.'-'.jh the sword- 
hilt with vigor, but love the more delicate pleasure of finger- 
ing minted metal: they were matched, too, with true Floren- 
tine eyes, capable of discerning that power was to be won by 
other means than by rending and riving, and by the middle of 
the fourteenth century we find them risen from their original 



THE BLIND SCHOLAR AIJD HIS DAUGHTER « 

«dXtZtlt'lerdrZ?U^^"«^-. "^ 'and. 
di«turbmg to thejealov^yof th«1* ^ur ^°"°*' "^ V*'"". 
These lordly purchLeaZ .L^ republican fellow-citizens. 

disaatronsl/sCi^d olfZ"^ ^^ °," '"*'°8 «>« B^di 
the very front of EnL?. ^'"* ^^' " "ta^ding in 

child. Vthat tLe!^rd?rtarrrr"'\^"'''"' «°^- 
wars of our Edwiul tt? ^-^^ to furnish specie for tha 

kind "made over to iem « ' n""*^ ^"""^ '«^«»"'"' "i" 
of freight. foJmlSZ'.ZT'TUir'- T? ^^'"'■°»' 
them with an auRust defin^ o% , *"^' '^«'"°r 'eft 
««de a too .^dden7eml1 for t?. "^"""^ ^*'''"«" """iito" 
ing a ruinous sh^ktoXored t of S'",* °' f^P™'*"' «"""- 
houses, which was fdt «/„ the Bardi and of associated 

coast, 'of the M?d toiLe^~'"!^, <«^-'ty along all the 
rupta, they did norfTaTthalf Wde th' "r.""^"" ^''■ 
tion; onthecontr^y. i^illiatt::.''S ZIT^^ 

Srx rrce?.:L^t-r ""^^^^^^^^^ 

to aU who will r^ad ttHn^^lf ^ circumstances, open 

drew upon themse^e'^e eS:^'^^''*''^'"."' ^'""^ 
1343. The Bardi who > T^^ !? * *''* a^""*^ Peopl« "» 

street between rhe\wobri5^s ket ttr"'"' '"* '""">- 
panthers at bay aminaf h^! ' ? ^^* narrow inlets, like 

Z were onljmafe to rive w«yT^ «'"^'''°'"' °^ *^« P«°Ple, 
behind them.' Srt^ZT/ tS Hve? ^thr 'It '^ 
twenty-two (^«%i e .a,« ^ w/) VeJe saL^ T?*^' °' 
and many among the chief of Se ^ho bore the BarH ""'' 
were driven from the city. But an MH wi .• . ' "^me 

and contrasts of dignity ^dd?,,Z 7 f^ ''"'^itude. 




92 




ROHOLA. 



But aieBwdi never resumed their proprietorship in the old 
street on the banks of the river, which in 1492 had long been 
Msoojated with other names of mark, and especially with the 
Nen, who possessed a considerable range of houses on the side 
toward the hul. 

In one of these Neri houses there lived, however, a de- 
scendant of the Bardi, and of that very branch which a cen- 
tury and a half before had become Counts of Vemlo- a de- 
scend^t who had inherited the old family pride and energy, 
the old love of pre-eminence, the old desire to leave a lasl^e 
track of his footsteps on the fast-whirling earth. But the 
family passions lived on in him under J<--ed conditions : this 
descendant of the Bardi was not a man swut in str- .,t warfare, 
or one who loved to play the signor, fori;ifying strongholds and 
asserting the right to hang vassals, or a merchant and usurer 
of keen daring, who delighted in the generalship of wide 
commercial schemes: he was a man with a deep-veined hand 
cramped by much copying of manuscripts, who ate sparing din- 
ners, and wore threadbare clothes, at first from choice and at 
last from necessity; who sat among his books and his marble 
fragments rf the past, and saw them only by the light of 
those far-off younger days which still shone in his memory 
he was a moneyless, blind old scholar— the Bardo de' Bardi to 
whom Nello, the barber, had promised to introduce the youne 
Greek, Tito Melema. " 

The house in which Bardo lived was situated on the side of 
the street nearest the hill, and was one of those large sombre 
masses of stone building pierced by comparatively smaU win- 
dows, and surmounted by what may be called a roofed terrace 
or loggia, of which there are many examples still to be seen in 
the venerable city. Grim doors, with conspicuous scrolled 
hinges, having high up on each side of them a small window 
defended by iron bars, opened on a groined entrance-court;, 

tiTf "' f"'«™''°S ">« 1><»"^ vergogno^in other worf., paupers of 

acertamG.roIan.0 in this century who was reduced to suchart^tTof 
poverty ^at he wa« obliged to eeelc charity for the mere mc«n. o? tl 



THE BLDO, SCHOLAR AND HIS DArOHOTtR « 
•aptjr of everything but a mBsaiira l.™„ • 
the centre of tibe groin A 83,^^!?°° ""r""**"* ^^ 
«i>nitted to the stone stairtas^ld ^ •*°°"°'t«l«ft hand 
floor. These last were mied La^l ^ ^?'' "" *^« 8~>«d 

-was the first floorra^rLrhter^^Sri^^"''?-?""'''''! 
destined to be carried som« ^!? . '?" P™'"°""*°'m, 

Scheldt, sonietoZstresof Afrt"^' *° ""^ •"^'"' °^ tl"* 
^gean, or tothe banSfTeEulr "ST^^ l^i"' °* *^« 
a«^ when he returned bolTeUer^^i^'^t^'r^- 
cheap vegetables, had to make Tin ^-f„ ^ *** "'""^ o* 

Story before heTeaohed Ih^ d^r 1/v '*^ "^ *° '*'« ««««d 
which we are aboTt^ eSr'X a Jewr **'' ^''°' *~"«'' 
conversation with the (Jreek mornings after NeUo's 

left'?a^?tLS=:';^r.Te'^' *<'»!•••'>- ^ '-« 
^ooksinaudnoA whutaTCXg v K', ^1^"'' 
are come back, Maso. It is well w^I ^ ' ■^^' y°» 

The voice came fron. li7£her:n?;raT'"°*^«-" 
room surrounded with shelves oT-hi iJ^l, I ""^ "Pacious 
were arranged in scrupS:^'XS^e^'^»-'' antiquities 
rate stands in front of the .hVl™. ^^ *^®^' °° ««?»- 

feminine torso; a heall^sSurwri K h' •^"'""^ 
arm wielding a bladeless rw-TJi j ?^ "pWted muscular 

lin.bs severed from the trrt- "^J'^^^^'^Plod, infantine 
cold marble, some weSfpSe^^^^L^'n '?" *° ^^^ «"> 
threevasesfromMagnaoZL A ,?"'",•'"'*''' ""^ ''» or 
was covered with ^fon- Z , "^'^ *^^^^ ^ «>« centre 

dark pottery "X of rereo?''!'^'^ '""^ "'''''«^'' '"^ 
sombre: the^eUum btdi^lf ;'^°''2fr T """f' ^'^'"^ 
gave little relief tothe 3e 1 Wd 'L 7""1f "^ ^^'' 
once splendid patoh of carpet a't S^ rd'of'"Se ' *'" 
had long been worn to dimness- the rflrt K ® "^"^ 

light upon them to bringZtthei^ tint „f ^'"'*'' ^"^^^ '^■ 
was not yet high enoueh to LnH i ^ I «"*'°' ^^ *J»« ««" 

i"g before a carved /«<7ar n?™!^- eighteen, who was stand- 



Ij"i 




•• BOMOLA. 

dial, gold color, enriched by an unbroken imall ripnle. mok 

•aw, from which it rippled forward again, and made a nat^ 

or aerge. Her eyes were bent on a large volume nlaoed^ft™^ 
her., on. long white hand rested on the readin^dedTand S! 
other clasped the back of her father's chair. ' *' 

The blind father sat with head uplifted and turned a littl. 
« de toward his daughter, as if he were looking^ her ai! 
delicate paleness, setoff by the black velvet ofp wMoh ^ 

ble the likeness between his aged features and ZbVT^^ 

CL" Th' ''"' l""""" """ '^'^ -•'•'-' "^y tinged? 
■IIT' ^''"^ ''"' *h« """« refinement of brow and nostril 
rnboth, counterbalanced by a full though firm mo^trwid r^^ 

Sttm^'etTor' **'" "^ ^P'ession of proud tTnad^^Cd 
latent impetuousness : an expression carried out in the h«* 
w^ poise of the girl's head, and the gra^d iSL S her n«k' 

.T„ * .k"" V ^T* "■«""«« *«"" tl'* «■»'• But the ev^ 
wl*S'"/'"*ir«x'^''"^''"' ""d the eyes of the daS* 

«3^?r7^*"""^" °y°P'' »' Thebes named Chariclo 

leiresias. But once when in the heat of summer Pallas, in 

ZS:t '^"""'°' T •"''^«»'" disrordSmifX 
fhurT ^'PP°P""«' '* ^>W«"«d that Teiresias coming m 

tent y L aeld Mmerva unveiled, and immediately bec^e blind 
For It IS declared in the Satumian laws, that he whrLCi; 
J^nX' "l^t.*^^" ^^> shall ato;e for it by a h^vv 
penalty. . . When Teiresias had fallen into thU cilaSaTt7 
PaUas. moved by the tears of Chariclo. endow^ £"°;^ 



THB BUSD SCHOLAR AND HIS DATOHTBR BB 
«> that an oracle sS f^m hU tomh I/T* ""• '^"^ 

emendations in it whToh C^lf!' '"L ■■ "'^'' *°' ^ """^« 
any man. I finished iMnTI^T { '^*° communicated to 
ing me7' ^ ^*'^^' ''''*" ""^ "'81'* 'as fast fail- 

Bomola walked to the farther bt,^ «* iv 



iiii 




^ BOMOLA. 

fee. mtut Buwly mak« ite w.y through the dark obrtruotion 
that shut out ererything else. At that moment the doubtful 
attraobvenessofEomola'sfaoe, in which pride and pauion 
seemed to be quivering in the baknoe with native refinement 
and mtelligenoe, was transfigured to the most lovable woman- 
liness by mingled pity and affection; it was evident that the 
deepest fount of feeling within her had not yet wrought it* 
way to the less changeful features, and only found its outlet 
through her eyes. 

But the father, unconscious of that soft radiance, looked 
flushed and agitated as his hands explored the edges and back 
of the large book. 

•• The vellum is yeUowed in these thirteen years, Eomola." 
Yes, father," said Eomola, genUy; "but your letters at 
tte back are dark and plain stUl-fine Eoman letters ; and the 
Greek character," she continued, laying the book open on her 
other's knee, "is more beautiful than that of any of your 
bought manuscripts." ' 

"Assuredly, chUd," said Bardo, passing his finger aorosa 
irL^'- *? ** ^* ^°P*^ *° "iisorimmate line and margin. 
What hired amanuensis can be equal to the scribe who loves 
the words that grow under his hand, and to whom an error op 
indistinctness in the text i^ inore painful than a sudden dark- 
ness or obstacle across his path? And even these mechanical 
printers who threaten to make learning a base and vulgar 
thing-even they must depend on the manuscript over which 
we scholars have bent with that insight into the poet's meaning 
which IS closely akin to the men, divinior of the poet himself • 
unless they would flood the world with grammatical falsitieil 
and inexplicable aaolnalies that would turn the very fountain 
of I'arnassus into a deluge of poisonous mud. But find the 
passage m the fifth book, to which Poliriano refers-I know 
it very well." 

Seating herself on a low stool, close to her father's knee, 
Romola took the book on her lap and read the four verses co?- 
tainmg the exclamation of Actceon. 

"It is true, Eomola," said Bardo, when she had finished: 

It IS a true conception of the poet; for what is that grosser, 

narrower light by which men behold merely the petty soen^ 






Mbon., «d make, ol^tou/ Se f.>r "^ "^"^ '^^ '"e of 
who hay. reaped the great hl^l T/",!' '^' ^'^"^^ 
their furrows? For me. HnZfi '"'* '•** »■ »<> glean in 
--. With the great d.M I fted"°.vl"\' ~"'' ^ S 
weaed to me mere «)eotre«llw' *V* *•"» «^i"«^n 
feehng«,di„telligen^^'r;;^;"f7'J«f ^^^^^ »' ^« 
Pohziano, with that .„p;Xj^„'l'*^«I'«ffli», to whom 
to him compares our inquT.itiveX "'^ "^^^ ^ '"" »<>* deny 
on their eyes when they went It f"'^**' *«''«"" they put 
they got home againTFhr^e ret/r^l^'r'* '^^ «"•» off ^h« 
.treete as from a foigotteTd^^^'iT *''« """""o of th" 
my books, saying with Petr«rn. ^i! ^^' '«* ^own amonir 

lectant, colloquuntur, oonsulunt !? • ''" "«dullitus de- 
"f J^ '"""iliaritate j^.gun'S?': "' "^^ «'»<J*« nobis atqa, 

Petrarca, fcth'er!''''.^! rLT '"t^P'"' "«« yoi' farorit, 
old n=a„.s disposition i Sat^t '^^''o--'^ humori^;Tht 

i^.riJiThi«rLS^?-^^^^^^ 

^'•s::^rf!Se~-spr."--- 

that great work in which I had del'^'l ^'PfPiloi diough 
firm web, all the threads rt.* ^ *° 8»"ier, as into a 

^tangled, and whth tuS^^^ Cn*^' ""-^ ^''^™-? di«- 
'^ out off by the failure of my It ^^ '"""«« "^ ""/««. 
"oadjutor. For the BustL^ed feSt, ""^ '■"* °f "^ fitting 
demanded from those whrwouM^^f "v'^"^"*''''>'^« Patience 
knowledge are still le« 7^ •, T,'' *^* °°'*»ten ^ths of 
-agrantp™p,n3ityo/4™,~abIe with the wafde^R 
powers of the feJnine bLly" " '^^ ^ ^^^ the feebk 
• ^'"'"'"'"•^.?-°^ with a sudden flush 



look out 
want* 



any 



[read anything you wish 



in an in- 



'■^•^T^zr^'.iZi^^ 



yoo 



ROXOLA. 




Ml 



Bwdo ihook hit head, and smiled with a bittw lortaf pity. 
"▲• wall tiy to be a pentathloa and perform all the five feati 
of the palaetra with the limbe of a nymph. Have I forgotten 
thjr fainting in the mere searoh for the referenoei I needed to 
•xplain a liugle paasage of Callimaohui? " 

" But, father, it waa the weight of the hooka, and Maao can 
help me; it was not want of attention and patience." 

Bardo shook his head again. " It is not mere bodily organs 
that I want : it it the sharp edge of a young mind to pierce the 
way for my somewhat blunted faculties. For blindness acts 
like a dam, sending the streams of thought backward along 
the already-travelled channels and hindering the course on- 
ward. If my son had not forsaken me, deluded by debasing 
fanatical dreams, worthy only of an energumen whose dwell- 
ing is among iombs, I might have gone on and seen my path 
broadening to the end of my life ; for he was a youth of great 
promise. . . . But it has closed in now," the old nan con- 
tinued, after a short pause ; " it has closed in now ; — all but 
the narrow track he has left me to tread — alone in my blind- 
ness." 

Bomola started from her seat, and carried away the large 
volume to its place again, stung too acutely by her father's 
last words to remain motionless as well as silent; and when 
the turned away from the shelf again, she remained standing 
at some distance from him, stretching her arms downward 
and clasping her fingers tightly as she looked with a sad 
dreariness in her young face at the lifeless objects around her 
— the parchment backs, the unchanging mutilated marble, the 
bits of obsolete bronze and clay. 

Bardo, though usually susceptible to Bomola' s movements 
and eager to trace them, was now too entirely preoccupied by 
the pain of rankling memories to notice her departure from 
his side. 

" Yes," he went on, "with my. son to aid me, I might have 
had my due share in the triumphs of this century ; the names 
of the Bardi, father and son, might have been held reverently 
on the lips of scholars in the ages to come; not on account of 
frivolous verses or philosophical treatises, which are snpe 
fluous and presumptuous attempts to imitate the inimitable, 



r« th. J^?r.bTpogS. Sd ^^'Z"^• ""^ '"^ 'Woh 

might have .tudied the .uor.™.!.*^!^ f '"^P "'"'"by men 
why i- . young n..n l7eTo!i&"7 °' "■" P*" ^^ 
whM I wa. already held worthl f ('^^ '*» ""t yet born 
with Thoma. of 8ar^L. tol";?/,,^""'"'^ " '""'""<'» 
•nentator on the Pandeoli_wh J i. | ° ' V^"'' " » <"»»- 
offen^ to me, and who wanderf pufbD "'""- ^"'° " " 
bou. fancies that marked tSe d!oC"r„1 """J* "" ""P*""- 
•nd philo«,phy, to descend t^ pHtlrit^' °T "' "'' "'«"*"«>, 
of Platoniem, while I, whotrLorl\l''',r.''y '"«^P"-' 
not effected anything 'out «oa^«H 1 u V ' "''"*^' ''»^« 
propriated by other LnWhy^uT'li ""'"^ "'" »« "P" 
I had brought up to replenish my r^n JT "" "^ ""•• ^^om 
wterprise, left me and^l XrS „««.!?""« "'^ y°"n« 
bunself and howl at midnlhrli^ThT" ""* ^^ ""'Rbt J^h 

highinindignantprotestfeutto'at^ """'f' "''•* h«<» ""^ 
lous and plaintive that TomoCt™^ v°^ "^"^^ "» t^'"""- 
ibe blind aged face, felt hr^e^".':fu''"2'? "«"^ *"''«-» 
She seated herself h/ her fafi. • '^"* forgiving pity 

o« his kBee-toopr^uSV:?^'*'"-' rt^'-^ befCi 
might seem like a vindication SerT^^'T '° ''°'^' ">»* 

"•^YrHo^i^r &:^^^^^^^^ "' """' 

kand, withitsm^assiv pltLticr""^'?; '""^^ ^■' '•« 
dy on Ae delicate biue-vXd Wk nfT' "^^ " ""'"• *°° beav- 
?be bit her lip to prevent herSfl" '""''' "«'''' «» *bat 
Florenceonly is to Member me^t'""" 'T^^8- "« even 
g^Jund tbat it will remember nIc^IA^-'v'"' °» *^« """e 
«ook the vulgar pursmt of wLlthl^ n """"-'^'"''■^ ^ ^°'' 
devote myself to'«,llectingtt^p^Tourr"" *^' ^ "''»''* 

«ns. ButwhydoXsarS-J^o^Srifl^erreS: 



iTi: 




"* ROMOLA. 

bm 111% wUl not the world nmnnber a»T . . , T«t,» MldMl 
BMdo, aftxr a thort pauia, hU roio* faUing uain into a lad- 
«T^ Vt "^""°'« untimely death hu raiMd a new diffl- 
oulty. I had hit promii^I ihould have had hit bond-that 
mj ooUeotion .hould alwajri bear my nwne and should nerer 
be lold, though the harpiea might olutoh ererything elie: bat 
there « enough for them-the™ ie more than enough-and for 
the^ too Romola, the.o Mil be enough. Beridee, thou wUt 
marry J Bernardo reproaohei me that I do not eeek a fittine 
dt^ for thee, and we will delay no longer, we will think 

','^°' °°> '•">«■« '>»»' oouW you do? beddee, it U ueelea: 
wait till some one leeks me," said Bomola, hartily. 

' "^^R "y o^"^' ^^'■^ >» ""ot th« paternal duty. ' It was not 
so Held by the anoiente, and in this respect Florentines hare 
not degenerated from their ancestral customs " 
"But I will study diligenUy," said Komola, her eyes dUat- 

Fedele : I w,U try and be as usetul to you as if 1 had \ma a 
boy, and then perhaps roi- jntt scholar will want to marry 
me, and wUl no» mind about a dowry; and he wUI like to 
come and live with you, and he will be to ytm in place of my 
brother . , . and you wiU not be sony that I was a daughter " 
There r-cj a rising sob in Bomola's voice u she said the 
last words, which touched the fatherly fibre in Bardo He 
stretched hU hand upward a little in search of her golden hair, 
and as she placed her head under his hand, he gently stroked 
i^^leanmg toward her as if his eye, discerned some glimmer 

.„1k*^' ^°°'^'* "^ ^ •*'** °°* ""i " I ^^' pronounced an 
anathema on a degenerate and ungrateful son, I said not-tiat I 
could wish thee other than the sweet daughter thou hast been 
to me. For what son could have tended me so gently in the 
frequent sickness I have had of late? And even in learning 
thou art not, according to thy measure, contemptible. Some- 
thmg perhaps were to be wished in thy capacity of attention 
uid memory, not incompatible even with the feminine mind. 
But as Caloondila bore testimony, when he aided me to teach 
thee, thou hast a ready apprehension, and even a wide-glano- 



ttf ^.i' • '"" ^ ''•»• boon o.«KV '"v " ""^ "«>""« 
tt.<i«bMingiaau.noeof throi!;i. J'fP ""• "^oof from 
frivolity «d their .nirviT/.u^^J!!;:::*"' ">•'' .parruw-lik^ 

J.^wh.ahad«,l„e,7;^;^J^fJ.f7 with "" •»'"« 
woo again waa indebted fn,Vk . ' . ■*"'"'«"»' of PUutu.. 

It '-I cannot boaat that ^ou ^l'" T'' V'' "■«" *«• P«Jor 

owor category to which Jfrtur.^rW'^'"'' out ofVC 

ta«^dition thou art onaCwitt^h". „""•'. "•" •^•'> '^ 
«rf thw age, thou art. mv^tZ °""* ^''ra'd women 

«* mr aweet danrtter .^5^ ""« ""» tendemew^ "thou 
tt-fl-te. 'duIci^"f„::'ii£^^j^->«i.Mth, W.r'^ot^; 
■*ienn' according to thechoiiY^ ^^ ' *""" *«" «* «uribu. 
'^o tell, me thS.^^''°i"7°''J« »' "^^^i*^; and Be"! 
n-a of the n.omi.g.'Ilf^'d'^^.fy ^' '' «''• ^he brighj- 
^ radian.e from*thee ^r. 1 1^^*° ""f "«' ^ '««*'« 
*W« room, but thv form r ~:r ""^ ^"^ aU elae looV. in 
tb. little ;oma„T;'Sr 1^ S^'l. ?<« "^no W^ 
"•Mi thou art tall, and^y ^ .^'/l^*^ '" »• into dafk- 
«w walk together. » ^ ^ " •>"* ""!• below mine. i2t 

*»di^ei TkrCj Sri TT "' *^"« •--- 0' 
kere, and placed in hi. rfgh?^r^« ^^ ^" »"» ''^^bin 
the aide of hi. chair. 'V^uT .*** •'"'^ ""oh rested at 
Tf'i 1""% more thT^St!"'" ^"^ been .itting, he had 
thatrefined texture in wWch^ fnk,^' ^Tr' *'°"8'» P^«. had 
bnt now that he began to wa^l-^'r? '««""• "'verdee^ 

w..-rathermorelL.,ev,S^^V°t'^ " "^^ « ^^ «>X 
the student's .toopTtheaClL \^^ 'P"« ^'-^e had 

"^"Not '^* °' "■* bli^d "' ■"" '"' '"'PPod with tie 

•«plore the familiar outiiae w^^ I'? **' ^"^ *^" h« "nigh 
*^ be nothing el.etopZr:rt;ir.'r/" "^«* 



62 



ROHOLA. 




my name as a member of the great republic of letters— noth- 
ing but my library and my collection of antiquities. And 
they are choice," continued Bardo, pressing the bust and 
speaking in a tone of insistence. " The collections of Niccol6 
I know were larger ; but take any collection which is the work 
of a single man— that of the great Boccaccio even— mine will 
surpass it. That of Poggio was contemptible compared with 
mme. It will be a great gift to unborn scholars. And there 
18 nothing else. For even if I were to yield to the wish of 
Aldo Manuzio when he sets up his press at Venice, and give 
him the aid of my annotated manuscripts, I know well what 
would be the result: some other scholar's name would stand 
on the title-page of the edition— some scholar who would have 
fed on my honey, and then declared in his preface that he had 
gathered it all himself fresh from Hymettus. Else, why have 
I refused the loan of many an annotated codex? why have I 
refused to make public any of my translations? why? but be- 
cause scholarship is a system of licensed robbery, and your man 
m scarlet and furred robe who sits in judgment on thieves is 
himself a thief of the thoughts and the fame that belong to 
his fellows. But against that robbery Bardo de' Bardi shall 
struggle— though blind and forsaken, he shall struggle. I 
too have a right to be remembered— as great a right as Pon- 
tanus or Merula, whose names wUl be foremost on the lips of 
posterity, because they sought patronage and found it; be- 
cause they had tongues that could flatter, and blood that was 
used to be nourished from the cUent's basket. I have a right 
to be remembered." 

The old man's voice had become at once loud and tremu- 
lous, and a pink flush overspread hU proud, delicately out 
features, while the habitually raised attitude of his head gave 
the idea that behind the curtain of his blindness he saw some 
imaginary high tribunal to which he was appealing against the 
injustice of Fame. 

Bomola was moved witU sympathetic indignation, for in 

her nature too there lay tie sama large claims, and the same 

spmt of struggle against their . lenial. She tried to calm her 

father by a still prouder word than his. 

"Nevertheless, father, it is a great f Ift of the gods to be 



THK BLIKD 8CH0LAB AND HIS BACGHTKB. 63 

never , We shared hoS, ""a t'd'?''' '^'^ '^'=W«'^ 
streag -a in «»„, „ there wm ,?ri, ^ J^^?"""- ^''«'« " 
-«nUcame insensible rwl;:^d^^""^«l W by which 

he had beg^n. to Te^ on his I'v " ''"'" '°'«^'^ - ''Wch 
"And I indeed am no^to be DLolA'^r' ^^ *° '"^ <>°- 
My armor is the «, <W»L of «T ^ *^^ '^'^'^ "^ ^"''^.e. 
nourished by the prSs of ntf' """'"'^^o^. a-^d a mind 
Epictetu, . L disCeTU b^S'^he* ^T '°*°'' -^' 
their opinions or thouRhts lonL^^^.^^'^^'"^ ''"' ^y 
again, 'whosoever wiU be frrirv* *'"""' *^'°8«-' ^nd 
that which is in theTwe^ of !?;>. -^ °°* -^^-^^ °' d'ead 
otherwise, he is a sW Lf oTalf \*° ''"^ "' "««*' 
pendent on the caprice of for^,n ^ '""^ 8^**« as are de- 
jearned to say, Jlml^^^'^^Z' ' T ^°°« "^^ 
mhxs philosophy, vacUlatingIe°;in tir'n'" *"? '""^'^^ 
and the less worthy maitims of S P'/''*^** °* ^eno 
we say, 'duabus seUis seXetSll^i^'^' T"'^*^"^' ■«■ 
I Bay. with the pregnant brevity of re^tf- ""^ '"^'^"''^ 

_ *"""">"' °»'«'l«-t,e,rtqmnon curat habere. 

wl^;1SVa;^plSyt ri^' '"'^ "«•» -^«°- Of 
tributes men pay rlA^C'^,''^}^ j'"*'^ *« «"« 
also matters of purchase, ^d oL^ w^ J*"'' ^^«''«™ 
;^^.-hoUow, emp^lis the^^lthTtlus^/ ^we J^n 

Bar'J^sS-tr^mtrrwlTJ: ?"■« "^^ *^^ ^^^ 
which had been moving hTm^ ^7/1!' **" P""""* 
parchment and hung round h»^Jl-^ ** "^^ '^"'te" on 
presently broke forth^S t\nl 1! ^''^^ »'««• -^^ ^e 
"Znanit? ves if it U » i„^ V °" "' insistence. 

-eed of labor:;,d fg rVat Sor ' A",* "°* " " " ^'O i-' 
not fair that the work of mv h?o I ^"^ "^ "^ht : it is 



M 



ROHOLA.. 






bear the name of another man. It is but little to ask," the 
old man went on, bitterly, "that my ntsme should be over the 
door — that men should own themselves debtors to the Bardi 
Library in Florence. They wiU speak coldly of me, perhaps: 
' a diligent collector and transcriber,' they will say, ' and also 
of some critical ingenuity, but one who could hardly be con- 
spicuous in an age so fruitful in illustrious scholars. Yet he 
merits our pity, for in the latter years of his life he was blind, 
and his only son, to whose education he had devoted his best 

years ' Nevertheless, my name will be remembered, and 

men will honor me : not with the breath of flattery, purchased 
by mean bribes, but because I have labored, and because my 
labors will remain. Debts! I know there are debts; and 
there is thy dowry, Eomola, to be paid. But there must be 
enough— or, at least, there can lack but a small sum, such as 
the Signoria might well provide. And if Lorenzo had not 
died, all would have been secured and settled. But now . . ." 
At this moment Maso opened the door, and advancing to 
his Piaster, announced that Nello, the barber, had desired him 
to say, that he was come with the Greek scholar whom he had 
asked leave to introduce. 
" It is well, " Baid the old man. " Bring them in. " 
Bardo, conscious that he looked more dependent when he 
was walking, liked always to be seated in the presence of 
strangers, and Eomola, without needing to be told, conducted 
him to his chair. She was standing by him at her full height, 
in quiet majestic self-possession, when the visitors entered; 
and the most penetrating observer would hardly have divined 
that this proud pale face, at the sUghtest touch on the fibres 
of affection or pity, could become passionate with tenderness, 
or that this woman, who imposed a certain awe on those who 
approached her, was in a state of girlish simplicity and igno- 
rance concerning the world outside her father's books. 



DAWNING H0PB8. 



6S 



CHAPTER VI. 

DAWNIlrO HOPES. 

senting to you the Greek scLltwH" ^ ^ ' °* P'"' 

apeechof y^u, notlesrwi^Vi'll'^Uft;^^^^^^ 

sient need T^iSh^hT "T ^J^}^ ""''«' t^« t^""" 

for the oLu>g bX^hTsSd noi^of r'r' \,*'^""'' 
appearance; and among heTfa^eX *. if , "*^ ""^^ °' 
had hardly ever a^L, I f -L, ^•'^"'"r^y ^"ito™, she 
men. There wasTn^vZ^- middle-aged or gray-headed 

on her mind; iTt^Zt^fllt "T"^^. ^'^^^^ ^P"«««d 
had taken y^eronZtl^i^LTSr'j}" '°°« ^'"^ "«" 
•gain: a fair face, with sr^y hair StrL" '"'S' ^^ 
habitual attitude of her .«Z?^ !, *' *"'°- ^"* ths 

depend«>ce 1 d«"atilt"al' foT'^oV ^"""* .""" 
•mile-confirmed in her bv her fefW ,^"'«' ^"^^ ^^ » 

world's injustice wasTike An » ""mphiints against the 

therushof aargsij^r K^'rr ''T"'"* ^ 
rioh-tiuted beauty withour,n; ■ ^ f*'^* **"^ '''°''<«i it* 
-> or tunio ^^^le4":'^^i;fr'-/,^/e his black 

of «pring, dropped suddrivT, p , T"^^^ '''*" » '"«»«' 

life.VchhaKrSnSh^^.t.r'"'' ^"""^ ""* ''^''^ 

a dead mother, of a ^SSr.'of a bHTrTT"" "' 

tune-memories Of afar^ff ligli^i^.tj ^X'thaTl^ 



66 



ROMOLA. 



^.' :1, 



* 



'1.::::f 



mbedded in dark mines of books, and could hardly rive out 

torch n?^ t" '^ "^'"^ '^"^ '"" ^^^'^ f" Wy Zl 
b^w mlZ' ^°^" ^°y- ^^-^rtJ^oJe-B, she returned Ti.^' 
bow made to her on entering, with the same pale proud f«,^ 
as ever; but, as he approached, the snow melted, ^d wh^ 

ing, a pink flush overspread her face, to vanish again jdC.t 
^ediate y, as if her imperious wUl had recalM it Ws 

fcCh r*""^' ^ «"»*««"««'. beseeching ackiration 
m It which 18 the most propitiating of appeals to I p3 shv 
woman, and is perhaps the only atoneme^ a ma^^c^ m£ 
for being too handsome. The finished fascination of hiT^r 

Ht, vn, 1 ^f^ soft-coated, dark-eyed animal that de- 
lights you by not bounding away in indifference from von 
and unexpectedly piUows its chin on your palm, aid l^ks^^ 
at you desiring to be stroked-as if it loved you ^ 

Messere, I give you welcome, " said Bardo, with some con- 
descension, "misfortune wedded to learning I^desriX 
to Greek learning, is a letter of credit that shoZ wK e^ 

Sedthelilt.fr f" .~»°'^y"^. ManueloCrisolora, 
doused the light of his teaching in the chief cities of ItalV 

of IhT^ t"?*"'^ "«"' "° """^ " J'^W worthy ome nZ; 
of scholar who has acquired merely the transphited^dTe- 
nvative literature of the Latins /rather, suchkert stodenL 
are sti^atized as opici or barbarians according to tiie ph^ 

at S f^ZZ fr'r' '^°^"«^ly "Plen^hed thei?!^ 
at the fountain-head. I am, as you perceive, and as Nello^ 
douMess forewarned you, totally bli^d: a ^amij to wS 

^!d rds'":^.' """'i ""P'^^J^ """«• wbethero^g to tS 
cold winds which rush upon us in spring from the pisses of 

rfl^T"""? ~ *" ""* ""^'^'"^ ^^*^^ from tte co^I 

ZamJc .f '• 'Ti "" '"'^ ^ ^^« '^^ """le so nuTe^ 
Xr ?l *°°""* ^°"^'' °^' ««"«. tosome occult cauw 
T^ch eMes our superficial surmises. But I pray youT 
seated: Nello, my friend, be seated." ' ^ 

Bardo paused untU his fine ear had assured him that the 



DAwumo HopBs. er 

areeoe do you come? •' ""^ "''** P^t "f 

"I saUed last from Nauplia," said Tito- "haf T ),.„ 

I spent the first skteenTar" of ^v^if^'' ''""'* ^ari. 
and SioUy." ^ "* ""y ^« "> Southern Italy 

leaned forward/pnfoutW^riit^^l^f '''''*; ^*"«''; "« 
turned his head a's if atSto f^aSl^Tut ^en"'' n' 

« T.™ !t ' ^ * true— you are young? " ^ 

« A ?^, ''"fi^-and-twenty, » said Tito. 




-r.i 



ROUOLA. 

when h? takes tie sS^^Ws S ": " ^ "1**"^ '^»y'^ 

«' Perdonlmi sMo fcllo: ohl m'uooltA 
Intenda 11 mio relgar col ouo latlna • » 

dieted; but still more if you had nl? m '^«'««»'^«ly ad- 

oeits of a period t^m. «,««„■* ™ ^'^''» <»■ oo"" 

nioastrosiroi W JtrL'"f^'"8 ^ Md a warrant for 

-trosi., - -ui«^%rmySir;5at«?^ r-"-- 

title contrast with the great VOf^m^tvlS^VLr^^ 
held with Filelfo, before LandSno h^ S'uln\- 1'°°* 
pound the same opinion, embodied riu-Z.!!?? "° *° "' 
losophy in a graceful and welStSble ^dT" l^"' 
regard the multiplication of th^f ^SingflJwleTJ^S 



DAWNDfO HOPES. gg 

true learning m a si™ tw^,, ?"*"' "^"'^i"^ a friend to 

are to l» q^eZTg^tfl^TC 'Z' S' *''r'"*"^ 
delusive prologue to an a™ Jn .lii, .v ^ '**''^ ">»«" «>• 
of tinsel Ld go8s<m,eT T Ztl ^"^ *^"' °' iron-the ag» 

enough to be rSrinScrnsinTandTl' '? '^'''^ 
"Once more, nardon " ..VJ^w n ** '"**^8 ^^a-" 

ward, and shr^STis s^^'^i'^^tl^, P"^ ont- 
many things in aood Ti.»Pnn klV t\ "y"^* knowing so 
the Latin V tt^i^rd i^LuiSn'^"^ '° '''"'^ °' 
elippmg off the lips of my cmZ«« *^fK ^^'^"l "*' •^""J"' 
me. And, indeed LltinJ ""' . ^ ="*''*' " "J'at oorrnpts 
and my repuStTo W in ^'"""'"j ^ ^"^^ ^«f» "^^ "h^op 
who loes IrCetl evfn to bT n J °' "^ "'"^ ^""^™' 
but rather to bepronorL , '^^!'* " '"'"'^ inegualU, 

tongue. So with vrrT ^ "^'^ * '""'S''"- i" the vulgai 

myTeav JleTuVd^^^nTu^rrvor-' ' ""' ^^-^ 
ever Maso calls upon me. K seemTa t/ " T'"" ''''<"" 

at:rthrhre:s*L\rTF^--^^^^ '--" 
.-S^tr^rdwthrbowT^vvn'^r^''"^ *° ^""O' 

acute barber saw tiiat tL ^^ " *""* " '^"^ '° ^ito. The 
into his liki^; w *^* *3^; Pf ^ y^-goter, who had crept 

«.j»«d Tito „«. .ifl.°ff„'2*'iss: "" " "" 

agents oJ a ao^ rrtS't^? "*'"'«' *° ""' ""«P* ^^^''gl' th^ 

Kims. CtCi1Jrn:r'i'r^^ °'W 

-^witne.ed.whenme^n^re'A„tpl^t-:r^S/,^ 



n 



ROUOLA.. 



\s»m 






I .; -^ ' I', 



I: '( ■! . 




to fliMoe u to a atorehouw, and nmo back laden with 
mpjiunonpu which every leholar wa« jager to borrow— and, 
be It owned with ahame, not always wUling to restore: nay, 
•Ten the days when erudite Greeks flocked to our shores for 
• refuge seem far off now— farther off than the on-coming of 
my blindness. But doubUess, young man, research after the 
treasures of antiquity waa not alien to the purpcae of your 
travels?" ' 

"Assuredly not," said Tito. "On the contrary, my oom- 
^lon— my father— was wiUing to risk his life in his zeal for 
the discovery of inscriptions and other traces of ancient oiviU- 
zation." 

"And I trust there is a record of his researches and their 
results," said Bardo, eagerly, "since they must be even more 
precious than those of Ciriaco, which I have diligently availed 
myself of, though they are not always illuminated bv ade- 
quate learning." 

"There wtu such a record," said Tito, "but it was lost, like 
everything else, in the shipwreck I suffered below Ancona. 
The only record left is auch as remains in our— in my 
memory." 

"You must lose no time in committing it to paper, young 
man," said Bardo, with growing interest "Doubtless you 
remember much, if you aided in transcription; for when I was 
your age> words wrought themselves into my mind as if they 
had been fixed by the tool of the graver; wherefore I oon- 
stontiy marvel at the oapriciouaness of my daughter's memory, 
which grasps certain objects with tenacity, and lets faU all 
thoae minutiffl whereon depends accuracy, the very soul of 
acholarship. But I apprehend no such danger with you, young 
man, ifyourwUl has seconded the advantages of your train- 
ing." ^' ' 

When Bardo made this reference to his daughter, Tito ven- 
tored to turn his eyes toward her, and at the accusation against 
her memory his face broke into its brightest smUe, Trhich 
was reflected as inevitably as sudden sunbeams in Eomola's 
Ccmceive the soothing delight of that smUe to herl Bomola 
had never dreamed that there was a scholar in the world who 
would smile at a deficiency for which she waa oonatantly made 



DAWNINO H0PB8. 7, 

from each other in,mediatelt«.?;i. % ^'^ °°' '°°k away 
one, they looked aTd 3' ". w*^\"'°"» J""! «^" a .tolen 
"She i. not reaUv ,o^w i "^^ enjoyment. 

qufel?*" ""^ »"'«'"» 'o *»'» away. a:.d an.wer Bardo'. 

i" Tz":' re:ripC?:" ^r^'p*'""'" ^« -'^i -but 

dered doubly imprS T; th?"*^ '° 5''""°""« '«»'"'. «n- 
"•ay have happened rat^*^'7''«°' "'"^ ""^ adventure, it 
ha. been weakened On the^Ja,^°*r..°* r'""" ""^"-'"'tU 
tte gigantic stone, of Myce?^ .^d°Tv '' '"^'^' °"^°°8 
the fear of the Turk hovwfover Zt ,^f """-'"P^iaUy when 
jander., even though th: Cd^Hte 'fai5,^^^-*« ""^"^ 
dictate.. But somithing doubaJlf ? ^"'"""y what the eye 
T>to, with a modeety whfch waVn^ L^^Z "'^T'"''" "'^'''''J 
Boious that it wa. politic " .omffS 1 ' *''°"8^ ^« ^a. con- 
if illu.trated and edited b v a 1^7 f"* '?'«''* ^« »' ""-vice 
" That i. well .pok"n TouL wider learning than my own. " 
"And I wiU notSh'ofdfrLTu at' m"'°' ^^'^"^"^ 
it you like to communicate wTX T- "'' "i** •« ^ ""»° P^«S 
tion.. I fore.ee a work whirh win ,^°"''"°^» y°" "<»"~- 
the ' LoUrio' of clriftoforo bT,™. ," ""'^"^ '"Pplement to 
take rank with the'^ZL^T^^'"'^' "^^ which may 
Ambrogio Trarer«r . bT we mu.T^° '^'' "'^ '''^^"We 
calumny, young man." Ba^do wenTon ^^ °""'''"'"' ^°' 
work were already gr^wiuR so C .w !^^ .'°"®'' *« ^ ti« 
near; "if your book contain. ,^' ^^ *™« °* t^ial was 
with forgery ;lf^e,°°°^'?''"°^f'«'' y°" will be charged 
ciples of'^b';;4teVon adtnC .^'""^'^ "l^" with any pr^ 
sonal characters wm be att^^ ^ T*^" '"'^°'"' °"^ V 
foul actions; you ZZ Dr^«™ ' "^f" ^ in'peached Trith 
".other wa. ; fi^h-womlf ^^Z""""" *° •« t"'-! that your 



T3 



ROXOLA. 



*V^ 



Oj#'i"'f!f 




.( 




even hideous orimei. Such, my young fri«nd-iuoh we the 
Bower, with which the glorious path of soholuship is strewed t 
But tell me, then: I have learned much concerning Bysan- 
tium and Thessalonica long ago from Demetrio Calcondila, who 
has but lately departed from Florence! but you, it seems, hare 
visited less familiar scenes? " 

"Yes ! we made what I may call a pilgrimage f uU of dauger, 
lor the sake of visiting places which have almost died out of 
the memory of the West, for they lie away from the track of 
pUpims; and my father used to say that sohoUrs themselves 
hardly imagine them to have any existence out of books He 
was of opinion that a new and more glorious era would open 
for learning when me- should begin to look for their com- 
mentaries on the ancient writers in the remains of cities and 
temples, nay, in the paths of the rivers, and on the face of 
the valleys and the mountains." 

"Ahl " said Bardo, fervently, "your father, then, was not* 
common man. Was he fori;unate, may I ask? Had he many 
friends?" These last words were uttered in a tone charged 
with meaning. 

"No; he made enemies— chiefly, I believe, by a certain im- 
perious candor; and they hindered his advancement, so that 
he lived m obsourily. And he would never stoop to conciliate s 
he could never forget an injury." 
" Ah! " said Bardo again, with a long, deep intonation. 
Amrag our hazardous expeditions," continued Tito, will- 
ing to prevent further questions on a point so personal, " I re- 
member with particular vividness a hastily snatched visit to 
Athens. Our hurry, and the double danger of being seized as 
prisoners by the Turks, and of our gaUey raising anchor before 
we could return, mide it seem like a fevered vision of the 
night— the wide plain, the girdling mountains, the mined por- 
tioos and columns, either standing far aloof, as if receding 
from our hurried footsteps, or else jammed in confusedly 
among the dwellings of Christians degraded into servitude, m 
among the forts and turrets of their Moslem conquerors, who 
have their stronghold on the Acropolis." 

"You fill me with surprise," said Bardo. "Athens, then, 
IS not utterly destroyed and swept away, as I had imagined." 



^w^3^ 



DAWMma BOPB. rg 

of "t?e S 'Z^:^^ "'^"'f *'* """'^•' '" "^ •«« 

Ufl^nrLt ^o^".*"' "■'"""« "l^"' the present oonT 
Hon of Athena, or iSetine, as the Bailon ell if '^ , . °* °°°'" 

- we were rounding thj promonto 70* ll J r'^"*',: 

S.S h'S^ -ect-awarm, of besotted fanati^ ^ 

"Ferdio, 1 have no affection for them " K^ii\ Tit„ vi. 

M« U we imgered till a change of wind, they would depart 



nv 





74 



ROMOLA. 



without us: bnt, after all, it wai impoHibU for ni to venture 
near the Aoropoli», for the tight of men eager in ezaminiog 
' old (tone* ' raised the suspicion that we were Venetian spies, 
and we had to hurry back to the harbor." 

" We will talk more of these things," said Bardo, eagerly. 
" You must recall everything, to the minutest trace left in your 
memory. You will win the gratitude of after-times by leav- 
ing a record of the aspect Greece bore while yet the barbarians 
had not swept away every trace of the structures that Pau- 
sanias and Pliny described: you will take those great writers 
as your models, and such contribution of criticism and sugges- 
tion as my riper mind can supply shall not be wanting to you. 
There will be much to tellj for you have travelled, you said, 
in the Peloponnesus? " 

"Yes J and in B<£otia also: I have rested in the gro^'es of 
Helicon, and tasted of the fountain Hippocrene. But on 
every memorable spot in Greece conquest after conquest has 
set its seal, till there is a confusion of ownership even in ruins, 
that only close study and comparison could unravel. High 
over every fastness, from the plains of Laoedaemon to the straits 
of ThermopyliB, there towers some huge Frankish fortress, 
once inhabited by a French or Italian marquis, now either 
abandoned or held by Turkish bands." 

"Stay I" cried Bardo, whop- mind was now too thoroughly 
preoccupied by the idea of the ...are book to attend to Tito's 
further narration. "Do you think of writing in Latin or 
Greek? Doubtless Grbek is the more ready clothing for your 
thoughts, and it is the nobler language. But, on the other 
hand, Latin is the tongue in which we shall measure ourselves 
with the larger and more famous number of modem rivals. 
And if you are less at ease in it, I will aid you— yes, I will 
spend on you that long-accumulated study which was to have 
been thrown into the channel of another work— a work in 
which I myself was to have had a helpmate." 

Bardo paused a moment, and then added, — 

" But who knows whether that work may not be executed 
yet? For you, too, young man, have been brought up by a 
father who poured into your mind all the long-gathered stream 
of his knowledge and experience. Our aid might be mutual." 



DAWWnrO HOPES. n 

MO diTined well the inrwible currenta of feeling that deto, 
mined every question and remark f.lt h-,.-if • . 

lest he .hould be ino°i„!^ ^ di.Jll .h *^' "^ '""'• '^™''' 
Sn'^nTl'"?^"^^"^^^^^^ 

■teongly he would feel this if he knew aZt herTr"therI A 
H.r ^.^'^ ".'"' ""^'y ^"y ^" f™™ feeling impatient H- 

aoquiesoenoe which was natural to him * ""^ 

lastl'o^^.' ^•?'°'"* """^ '"PPy-" ''•"«'<». '» answer to Bardo's 

mflT.^ ' r ', T '*'^'='"' •"" *« '■-W « ■=««' offerbg to the 
matured scholarship of Messere. But doubtless "W»k 

"Yon are mistaken," said Bomols- "T .». v„ 



*JJL aIt-. 



r3M 



76 



SOHOU. 



I 



the woman's delicate frame, which ever onves repoee and 
Tanety, and so begets a wandering imagination. My daugh-^ 
ter "—turning to Tito—" has been very preoiona to me, filling 
up to the best of her power the place of a son. For I had 
once a son . . ." 

Bardo checked himself: he did not wish to assume an atti- 
tttde of complaint in the presence of a stranger, and he remem- 
bered that this young man, in whom he had unexpectedly be- 
come so much interested, was still a stranger, toward whom it 
became him rather to keep the position of a patron. His pride 
was roused to double activity by the fear that he had forgotten 
his dignity. 

"But," he resumed, in his original tone of condescension, 
" we are departing from what I believe is to you the most im- 
portant business. Nello informed me that you had certain 
gems which you would fain dispose of, and that you desired a 
passport to some man of wealth and taste who would be likely 
to become a purchaser." 

" It is true; for, though I have obtained employment, as a 
corrector with the Cenuini, my payment leaves little margin 
beyond the provision of necessaries, and would leave less but 
that my good friend Nello insists on my hiring a lodging from 
him, and saying nothing about the rent till bettor days." 

"Nello is a good-hearted prodigal," said Bardo; "and 
though, with that ready ear and ready tongue of his, he is too 
much like the ill-famed Margitos— knowing many things and 
knowing them all badly, as I hinted to him but now— he is 
nevertheless ' abnormis sapiens,' after the manner of our bom 
Florentines. But have you the gems with you? I would 
willingly know what they are— yet it is useless: no, it might 
only deepen regret. I cannot add to my store." 

" I have one or two intaglios of much beauty," said Tito, 
proceeding to draw from his wallet a small case. 

But Bomola no sooner saw the movement than she looked at 
him with significant gravity, and placed her finger on her lips, 

" Con vi«o che tacendo dloea, Tacl." 

If Bardo were made aware that the gems were within reaob, 
she knew well he would want a minute description of them, 



mm..m 



DAWSING HOPES. jj 

elding the^^Vi^i'i^ti^/'^rr tr '"^"^ 

JwltnTi^'n-^ B!«n,andlLSStel, With- 

words, "But they are usuaUv i^ th« v ^ ^^. "P '^'' '■«' 
menico Cennwi. who C ,L ''•^^««P"'« of Messer Do- 
things. He e'tUi^ t^em t"wo^ f ', ^IT '°' '^^^o 
dneats." " '""*^ »* '""t five hundred 

"Ah, then they are fine intacli " haiVI w„,.i„ <,,,. , 

hii^oVrw'f w^i^l^^-P*'"^ -"^ -d opened 
face, as ifl^ JorfT a T- T""^ T^™' "' Bardo's blind 
time ^hlmZZToiZTi^ "^ "^ "'""™° P"^<». »»» 
iinprisonniert!!hlrhad sl^. * T'^"'*'* ^"^ '^^^^ ~ 

^{nextn.on>ent\1irwrirSre'™- ^"* 
be her father's interpreters Sh. 1^^^, ^" "^^^ '""«' 

what related to her ErLn^LU ^1^7"?'^ "'''' 
Wagain for some guidan'ce, SntdtSy sM """^ *" 

almost sure to buvanvUfVw u .^^P^ta^o would be 

he himself se^^^LZfbTrSgtdiafir..^"^'^'' 
as a defence against pains i/the^ 'f'*^"' "''"'"'' '«« 

fiden:el*^^VlE<!^f«;J^r'T--^o-™uoh con- 
is sanctioned by^K^r-l^r/strsS^r ''f 

r^t^r^Si^fir^ai^L^T"^^^^ 



^^♦liiF*^ .ij^m-it0^- 



Hi 






re 



ROHOIiA. 



Wo year, ago I had a certain infirmity of sudden numbneu. 
But thou hast spoken well, Eomola. I wiU dictate a letter to 
Itortolommeoj which Maso shall carry. But it were weU that 
Messere should notify to thee what the gems are, together with 
the intagU they bear, as a warrant to Bartolommeo that they 
will be worthy of his attention." 

t'l^'^^'^^''*^*^,'" *"^ ^'°°'*' ^^°^ ^^^^ l«8t a paroxysm 
of the collector's mania should seize her father gave her the 
courage to resist his proposal. « Your word will be sufScient 
that Messere is a scholar and has travelled much. The Seore- 
tano will need no further inducement to receive him " 

" True, child," said Bardo, touched on a chord that was sure 
to respond. " I have no need to add proofs and arguments in 
confirmation of my word to Bartolommeo. And I doubt not 
that this young man's presence is in accord with the tones of 
his voice, so that, the door being once opened, he wiU be his 
own best advocate." «« luo 

Bardo paused a few moments, but his silence was evidenUy 
charged with some idea that he was hesitating to express, for 
he once leaned forward a little as if he were going to speak, 
then turned his head aside toward Eomola and sank baokWd 
agam. At hist, as if he had made up his mind, he said in a 
tone which might have become a prince giving the courteous 

signal of dismissal, 

';i am somewhat fatigued this morning, and shaU prefer 
wemg you again to-morrow, when I shaU be able to give you 
^e secretary's answer, authorizing you to present yourself to 
hun at some given time. But before you go "-here the old 
man, in spite of himself, fell into a more faltering tone— "you 
will perhaps permit me to touch your hand? It U long since 
1 touched the hand of a young man." 

Bardo had stretched out his aged white hand, and Tito im- 
mediately placed his dark but delicate and supple fingers 
within It Bardo's cramped fingers closed over them, and 
he Md them for a few minutes in sUenee. Then he said,— 
Bomola, has thU young man the same complexion as thy 
brother— fair and pale?" 

"No, father," Bomola answered, with determined compo- 
sure, though her heart began to beat violently with mingled emo- 






w^ 



DAWNING BOPES. 79 

;J2^^<^ he looks^, gentle andgood-natured." TheS^d 
t»Ie7'^^ ^"'^ P"™'* "y *»*''" *» fnoh his hair and 

embarrassment "" '^'"companied by any sign of 

on the rich oval of the cheek ^ "P*"* 

brotherf EoLuT^d "L ae bIS't *" "''^ ""■'^'^ ^^^ 
trust, my young friend? » "" ""* '"' ''"'*""'' ^ 

nomoed'I ^!1T '*'«^°P«°H "^d there entered unan- 

ture, and Komola rse^^e^h^ ^T ''"• ?*~P^« ^^ 
which implied all tC^a^ Lf™ '"',^' "'^ "^ '^'«'"'7 
oompanied by any smlie ^ ^""^ " ""^ "^- 

in neverthelC" "^ ^°" ^"^ » '^'t"'' but I came 

" It is thou, Bernardo, " said Bardo " Ti,™, .^ 
fortunate moment T>, . T '^ . ^°" ^ '"'™» »t a 
moment. This, young man," he continued, while 



80 



ROUOLA. 



Tito roee and bowed, « is one of the chief citizens of KoreiioeL 
Messer Bernardo del Nero, my oldeat, I had almost said my 
only fnend— whose good opinion, if you can win it, may car^ 
you far. He is but three-and-twenty, Bernardo, yet he can 
doubUess tell thee much which thou wilt care to hear: for 
though a scholar, he has already travelled far, and looked im 
other things besides the manuscripta for which thou hast too 
light an esteem." 

"Ah, a Greek, as I augur," said Bernardo, returning Tito's 
reyerenoe but slightly, and surveying him with that sort of 
glance which seems almost to out like fine steel "Newly 
arrived in Florence, it appears. The name of Mes-'ire— or 
part of It, for it is doubtless a long one? " 

"On the contrary," said Tito, with perfect good humor, "it 
is most modestly free from polysyllabic pomp. My name is 
Tito Melema." 

"Truly?" said Bernardo, rather scornfully, as he took a 
seat; " I had expected it to be at least as long as the names of 
a city, a nver, a province, and an empire aU put together. 
We Florentines mostly use names as we do prawns, and strip 
them of aU flourishes before we trust them to our thro-^s 

"Well, Bardo," he continued, as if the strange- were not 
worth further notice, and changing his tone of sa. ic suspi- 
oiOTi for one of sadness, " we have buried him." 

"Ahl » replied Bardo, with corresponding sadness, "and a 
new epoch has come for Florence— a dark one, I fear. Lo- 
renzo has left behind him an inheritance that is but like the 
alchemist's laboratory when the wisdom of the alchemist is 
gone." 

"Not altogether so," said Bernardo. "Piero de> Iledici 
has abundant mteUigence; his faults are only the faults of hot 
blood. I love the lad-lad he wiU always be to me, as I have 
always been ' little father' to him." 

" Yet aU who want a new order of things are likely to con- 
ceive new hopes, " said Bardo. " We shaU have the old strife 
of parties, I fear." 

" If we could have a new order of things that was something 
else than knocking down one coat of arms to put up another " 
said Bernardo^ "I should be ready to sav, ' I belong to no 



^ .Mm 



DAWNING HOPES. 31 

•m of the same mind as Farinata deeli Vh^iL 

««k8 me what is meant by siZrwirt . ^ r ""^ "^ 

did, ' To wish ill or wTlL Ir^^ l\ P"*^' ^ "'' «« k« 

no?Sf i^l'Lt'* ''"'"^"^ ^^'•^ ""<> '-'' «*»<«"«, and 

#iHSri£^^SS^ 
je.?^;rwtrh'^;.ts^-p:-^^^^ 

to send him to Bartolommeo Soala" fn^VT ! "^ ^'""K 
«o. prudent in me to abstlLSi^Jr'pXr »* '"" 
Bernardo shrugged his shoulders and said "Wl. „u 
thou see If my servant is without? 1 ordered hi™^r^*« 
me here." Then when P«™„i ^ °'*'*'e<» ^lua to wait for 

oare no one gets it who ia nnf ni,^i / ^ °^^' **^« 



ka. 



83 



ROMOLA. 



CHAPTER VII. 

A LEARNED SQUABBLE. 

Babtolommeo SoAiA, secretary of the Florentine Benublio. 
on whom Tito Melema had been thus led to anchor hU ho^^ 
lived m a handsome palace close to the Porta Pinti. now 
known as the C«,a Gherardesca. His arm,^_an azu« laddeT 

h^s ascent to honors by his own efforts a fact to be proclaimed 

ZTTJ^T'^- 2^'"' "^"^"^ "■" '^ "^ '^'1 pompous ma^ 
but he was also an honest one: he was sincerely con^kced of 
hiB own merit, and could see no reason for feigning. The 

«n T^\°L^^ "^^ ^'^" ^ *>««" "allied by thi! 

ime: he had held his secretaryship these twenty years-had 

few PsT^' h" orations on the nngkiera. or platform of 

^1^» iT' « *" ""''*°°' '""^ ^ t'"*' Pwsence of princely 

cZ^^n'I^ *^'^' *^" "P""""'^ "0". ''O" his grfd 
crown on the occasion, and all the people cried, "Viva Mmsw 

sr^rw"-'f '*•«' "" ■" '-bassy 'to zr^ 

^i.^?f .^n";^' f"^ ^'^*°^' ^POBtolical Seci^t^, 
Knight of the Golden Spur; and had, eight years ago. been 

M^^r"r:^f"^°^ "^^ Florentine^itiLn's TbitiTn 

P)uty after the manner of successful mortality and the 
Knight of the Golden Spur had often to sT^a Mpll 
cushioned heel under the handsome loggia he had Sf^ 
S hL p^lS"'"'*"'"''^^'''-"' gardens'Llawn at tte 15 
He was in this position on the day when he had granted th« 
desired interview to Tito Melema."^ The May ^S^sl 

ae loggia; the too stately silk lucco was cast aside, and the 

dfu.hr'A?'"*^".'"" '^^ ''^"'' ^^"i his beautiful 
daughter, Alessandra, and her husband, the Greek soldie^ 
poet Marullo, were seated on one side of him: on the other, 



■"^m^ «^-,l. 



A LBABNBD SQUABBLE. gg 

the contents of cYr^ pT™™ tlf^l*^' w ""•'"Ottered by 
chiefly of a oomsSX wt ' hiL^fr 5^ "^""^^ 
was a human foible at th»t ^*rf">"°«'W and Politian. It 
to recite qCrVla Ind W T*, (?''««liM« >« ^ inay «»„,) 
munication™'i^!:°^''t°^ly^it<'"with the oom- 

wasneitherlrfl™t^,Thercf!r«°"'r'''»'=''' •"<» ""*» 
the oandidopinion of h" Sfenr:,'^' f,' ^""'^'^ ■"^""^ 
wrong in some half-soore S f' *°*! ''al»°«e of right and 
Politian, aIlspringin7o"tofoLi ">*"**" ''^~'^ """d 
«nost playful Inet'ZltTTt :^''^.r"'"'^ ^ ^^^ 
typical and pretty qu^relS ,)"•"». "'"'^ "' * ^"^ 

it supplied preciseirSutlTof LT '^"^ 

to NeUo, as a etimiirs t the ^lulri^K ^^^ '"^""Tl' ^°'^^e 
steed, Friendship slugpsh paces of the cautious 

the'Es/axvterStrvr'i*" ^^^ '- -^ 

tooth in readiness againS^'no?!^'*'^ ""* '<«"<»d 
.eeretary, who hadSnStt'gCS'T'TrP'"''"" 
a son-in-law. Scala was a mt^^^- ^°'" "^ *^» »8e for 
moreover, a luckvTan^JJ, ""^ "'""' P"^'^" «"^'wt. and, 
Boholar, but ttXT^rt^i»^^r'"P«™t*°8 to an offended 
itch for authorship, andTw^^bi^w > °* «''"8^'-J'« l-ad an 
lent people who sittLi,T„ . ^f'ter-one of those excol- 
trifles»entirSfoSo^^ ^^"''PP*''' "^'^'^ r^tio^l 
an audience, 211^"°^^^^'' without any Wew to 
letters, which we^Th?Hta.^ ^^T *° their friends in 
centuor. Now Tala hid JT f™'"'"^^ ''^ *!>« fifteenth 
"^dytopraisIhfstit^S. fri^rrtt'"*"'^'' '^''<' "»« 

-liable browsersrtte Med 'e^Vt ^'"^° ""^ ^^^° 
who found his Latin nrn.«.f.T ^"' ^^ong with himself- 

the terrible jLShSc'SrtJowrf^' '"'^ "•^^''"^-«' -^ 
ignorant of Latinitv waf It J? ^^^ to Pronounce him totally 

century. But when was lfa?^°'**"« '^»*^«« i" the next 
fluousLthorship e;r"ui?e^„S'^„X*^£^^^^ ^ ^"^- 
fnends? That critical suneroiwT^ 7.- ' "^^^^^ P'""^'' of 



84 



BOKOU. 




■olid Mentuj iliowad, in Ui lei.u» houn, • pl«M«,t f-^i. 
>ty ,n verses, which indicated pretty clewly h^„«fcTl 
m^ht do in that way if he were'not Lto^aJ:;;,.'""' "* 

v™^I ? I' ""'"*°*' ''^*" *^« """» yo" •eo'etly hate send, 
you a Latin epigram with a false gJnder-hendecasyllableJ 
at t:irfl ""\' T"' "' l««t a toe too muohJ^CpU 
ment had come to Politian: the secretary had nut fnrrt. T. 
^ft head from the offlcial shell, and the^rriSeClfrntcib 

fZnH "/r ^^: ^°"'*'^ ^^ ^ ""« freedom of a 
frMnd, and pleasantly, in the form of a Latin epigram oo ' 
rected the mistake of Scala in making the cu^Z^JZ, 
weU known on the bank, of the Arno) of ^^o^Tte^. 
nme gender. Scala replied by a bad joke, in 1'^ JX 

reot, and inasmuch as Scala had alleged that he had^ttton 

t^Z r*"*'"" °^.» ^"""^ 'Pisram, Politian, TeLtoTs^h 
friendly terms, would enclose a Greek epigram of his own on 

wish to humble Scala, but rather to instouct hiii- said e^^ 
gram oont^ing a lively conceit about Venus, Cd,an3 X 
^ f ». ""fd much tasted at that period, found^edp^t on 
the zoological fact that the gnat, like Venus, was h^trZ 
the waters Sc^a, in reply, begged to say that his ye«e° 
we^ never mtended for a scholar with such delicate olfactoriL 

lTr='I"°' m °* *" ""^« "'«° *° «"> perfectionTtt^ 
ancients, and of a taste so fastidious that stuVgeon itself must 

S^ntlnd!^ "^ '"'*^ ''^,"*° ^'^'^^' ''"x^"* ''"''otC 
W ^^ ,/ *f "^v '"'^•'' distraction during the summei 
heat to himself and such friends as were satisfied with medi- 
oon^, he, Scala, not being like some other people, who^^ 
publicity though the booksellers. For the ^s^he had^ 
enough Greek to make out the sense of the epigra^ so S 
oiousty sent him, to say nothing of tasting its elj^, bu^ 
fte epigram was Politian's: what more need belaid? BW 
by way of post«aipti he feared that his incomparable friaS'; 



.m.^^_f 



A LBARNED BQUABBLl. ff 

«wup»ri«m of the gnat to Venns, on aooonnt of iti oH^rfn #-». 

deed, when the darknesfZH^rt^ ^ ^ '"'?^'' " '"■ 
or an owl we™ » i... T , ""° oongideration, a bat 

w aa owi were a less obscure and more aoDosita nar.iiii T 
Here wae a great opportunity for Politian^I - '^ . ' ""• 

£dt"r^F°^^"'^«"^^^^^^ 
r:i,rrtr,rw?fsra^-^?^-^^^^^ 

Sngde^i^orZble^rtL'''''^.''''' *"* '«' "^^ 

««.tment on that head-wh4l3e^l Q^f "^^r T 
serve aa powder to his bullet. quotation to 

on,, that by a «,rt of compensation men of letters might f^ 



JW^ 



86 



nOUOLk. 




thwudTM hU eqaiai. In wtura, PoHtUa wm bwnd to «. 
Mune Scl... writiag., nowhere wouldTi^.lSfdtt^; 

«ge in which he lived, and bludied for it. SomtL indeed 

h^^^^i! ,' '•"" '^^ *^'' -l'^' monmnentoofSiiW^ 
but he, 8odl^ could not oblige them. And Mto "ehon^ 
which were offensive to the envious, they had been w^U iZT 
wmiee. hi. whole life ,ince he came In^n^^Zn^f 

osteful to the Age; nay, it was with perfect accuracy that it 
the elegant scholar, had called Soala Tbranny m^nfterfn^ 
much a. he was formed from the offscourin^^f monste^ te™ 

ewed ofHce of turning the paternal mUUtones (in J^i 

It was not without reference to Tito's appointed visit th.f 
tt^^per. containing this correspondenceTe'^'tjStt 

Swer?^ll? Lf'i^'"*'' scholar whose accompUr 
mwits were to be tested, and on nothing did Scala more desire 
a dupassionate opinion from per«,ns of superior wS 
than on that Greek epigram of Politi«,'s. I^r 8^3 
Ss^'^f 1' "°"""^/ ^'""'^ travels,''aftet^:n:'^;rd* 
of the lamented Lorenzo's eagerness in coUecting such speci- 
mens of ancient art to the subject of classical toftes^d 

inTeX bul a'liuir::!"" ^°"'''^' ' '"^ "' eminentlS^,^^,* 
inaeed, but a little too arrogant-assuming to be a Hercul™. 
who«, office It was to destroy all the literLy monstrodS^f 
the age, and writing letters to his elders wiihout sS tte ° 
as If they were miraculous revelations that could oTha^e 
one source And after all, were not hU own critioisW^often 
questionable and his tastes perverse? He was fond oTs^ 
pungent thmgs about the men who thought they ^oH 

but while he was boasting of his freedom from servile imita 
twn, did he not fall into the other extremj ^g^J, 



m: ^: 



A LIASMIO BQUABBLI. 



to believe that the "trwsmS " th "o \ '^vP'*''"'*'^ 
would make lieht of it T.T v' ,^^'^^' tl^emwlvea, 

.p^U^ing the K i^'hlhri.';;', '^" "-t-tionauj 

• visitor on aZ d^ oTTl'^^C «»•«"* of sherbet for 
« a cordial-h^ a few littfet, J V""' '*''^' '^''y *•«" 
turning on welllro^^iS«^ f'^^,^.*^? '"'T "' ^"'"^ 
not like to eo anvfurth.,r*..?v '*'""'' ''^ohhe would 

ooS°4£; ''Hi.'^is't'^^r'^"-"*'"' -station to 

Bured that he himwlf ».. "s""^. "«»»*• But Tito was as- 
He had wonlis^^to Z^ "'t^^ating than his genui. 
tion of BardoTe' Xm who^ J*^' ^^ *^<f '««'"»°«'^.- 
quaintance and a worthy sI'oU 1 ^"^ ^'^*''' °^'» "«=- 

hnnself alittle (a 7iSLt t M ' ■"'5'"' °^ ''''' °^«valuing 
bnt he mu,t cima^^n Ik "" ^^^ »«°"t«^'« «<«d.) ; 



" noMou 

n» Intwrrtaw oonld h»rdlj lutre ended moty> AQnieloQdr 
tot Tito, and m h« waUed out at the Porta Pint! that h« 
might hngh a little at hit ease over the affair of the euln, he 
felt that fortune could hardly mean to turn her Inok on him 
•gain at preeent, aiiuM the had taken him by the hand in tUa 
deoidad wf. 







CHAPTER VIH. 
A rxom iir tbk ckowd. 

It U easy to northern people to rise early on midinmmer 
morning, to eee the dew on the grassy edge of the dusty path- 
w^, to notice the fresh shooU among the darker green of the 
oak and fir in the coppice, and to look over the gate at the 
•horn meadow, without recollecting that it is the Natiritv of 
St. John the Baptist. 

Not so to the Florentine— still less to the Florentine of the 
fifteenth century: to him on that particular morning the 
brightness of the eastern sun on the Amo had something spe- 
cial in iti the ringing of the bells was articulate, and declared 
It to be the great summer festival of Florence, the day of San 
Giovanni. ' 

San Giovanni had been the patron taint of Florence for at 
least eight hundred years— ever since the time when the Lom- 
bard Queen Theodolinda had commanded her subjects to do 
hun peculiar honor j nay, says old Villani, to the best of hu 
knowledge, ever since the days of Constantine the Great and 
Pope Sylvester, when the Florentines deposed their idol Mars 
whom they were nevertheless careful not to treat with con- 
tumely; for while they consecrated their beautiful and noble 
temple to the honor of God and of the " Beato Messere Santo 
Giovanni,'! ^^^ P^*"^^ °'^ *^»" respectfully on a high tower 
new the Eiver Amo, finding in certain ancient memorials that 
he had been elected as their tutelar deity under such astral 
influences that if he were broken, or otherwise treated with 
mdignity, the city would suffer great damage and mutation. 
But m the fifteenth oantuiy that discreet regard to the feel- 



vol W THl CnOWD. If 

Much goo4 had come to FloniniM .in„. »i, j 
ouUljr over hated Pisa. who.. »>..£ i il- • *°" *'?«• 

".dutiful, whormSrw.rt«m:ihT"r ^^^ •■■k'' 

and Italian c^aato. Th^e of W^ \°T^ "" ^"^^ 
prouder and prouder^ rreJui^Eu'^^^^^ been growing 
itMlf, on the Strength of Mre.r<,ol7L '^'/'''' "*-^"''» 
texturea, pre-eminent a^hoWM ' ^ "'^'' *"«"* ^^^^ «»d 
of themoftr,3.leiSo;T. P°«"'f.'^"'»''' •°'» "'*• 

Therefore UwrfittlT^irr J" °? c'"' ^"^ ^"'"^ «°™»- 
ancient ChurcL f "ti'u £l*tent^ ° San Giov.:,ni-th.t 
Augustin^shouid bo a dav nf I! v °. *** "^^y' °* St. 

and ahould be ushered inX °a S "uXr •*" ^l""""^' 
Florentine fashion with m,ihA ■ ^. P' "" ""=' o>d 

clever Cecca ngineer anrarcLttSa'ali': iH fe" " 
th«j may be see„ to tk. day „. the pictures of "perugin J 



fci/liifl^,..^.^ .IkJta 



M 



ROHOLA. 



•eemed, on the eve of San Giovanni, to have brought their 
piece of the heavens down into the narrow streets, and to pass 
slowly through them; and, more wonderful stUl, saints of gi-' 
gantio size, with attendant angels, might be seen, not seated, 
but moving in a slow mysterious manner along the streets, 
like a procession of colossal figures come down from the high 
domes and tribunes of the churches. The clouds were made 
of good woven stuff, the saints and cherubs were unglorified 
mortals supported by firm bars, and those mysterious giants 
were really men of very steady brain, balancing themselves 
on stilts, and enlarged, like Greek tragedians, by huge masks 
and stuffed shoulders; but he was a miserably unimaginative 
Florentine who thought only of that— nay, somewhat impious, 
for in the images of sacred things was there not some of the 
virtue of sacred things themselves? And if, after that, there 
came a company of merry black demons well armed with claws 
and thongs, and other implements of sport, ready to perform 
impromptu farces of bastinadoing and clothes-tearing, whv, 
that was the demons' way of keeping a vigU, and they, too^ 
might have descended from the domes and the tribunes. The 
Tuscan mind slipped from the devout to the burlesque as 
readily as water round an angle; and the saints had already 
had their turn, had gone their way, and made their due pause 
before the gates of San Giovanni, to do him honor on the eve 
of hia/ata. And on the morrow, the great day thus ushered 
in, it was fitting that the tributary symbols paid to Florence 
by all its dependent cities, districts, and villages, whether con- 
quered, protected, or of immemorial possession, should be 
offered at the shrine of San Giovanni in the old octagonal 
church, once the cathedral, and now the baptistery, where every 
Florentine had had the sign of the Cross made with the anoint- 
ing chrism on his brow ; that all the city, from the white-haired 
man to the stripling, and from the matron to the lisping chUd, 
should be clothed in its best to do honor to the great day, and 
see the great sight; and that again, when the sun was sloping 
and the streeta were cool, there should be the glorious race or 
Corso, when the unsaddled horses, clothed in rich trappings, 
should run right across the city, from the Porta al Prato or 
the northwest^ through the Mercato Veoohio, to the Porta 



-..-^Tlte 



A FACE IK THB CROWD. ^ 

gold, such as became »^y ttrttalf ^/w S '"'^ ^^S" "^ 

toy, there were weddinw^rth '^ begummgof that oen- 
«o moh piping, mudc^^dl? w^r b*l^''.r«^ '"'^ 

dead, and an -rogan,, t^oS pTeTwttr f T" ^ 
an evU change for Florence, .^less 1 d^d T. " f"°' 
prefers the bad rider as mn,! '^'.™» "">eed, the wise horse 
and already the reSts foT^^^ ^"^ *™'° ""« ^ddle; 
inant over VmSred d^i^T T *'""« '*" P'^''""'- 
b«.is. in which corruption S ^ ^^''^f «°* «■» » broader 
be that free play f^tZK ^ f ""**''' """^ *^««» ""igit 

times, when FlorS ^^ ff "^J^-f-me. struggling 
own soldiers, drove out^nld vTJ J •'"■^dings. reared her 
ana was proud rkee„fa,>h^ ^""'' "'""^ "'""^'s poinl^ 
dead, Pope Cocent wL ^^. /' "'"' ^°«'- I*"-^ ''M 
snoc^ion. wftTl Tn^- ^*' ""* " t^oblesome NeapoUtan 
Italy by VetsVo^C S^'S"' ^iUn. «ig?t set 
difficult. Still, there wm alTth«^^ ^'l" "^^'^ *° »« 

Uc should keep'iu reli^l1e!^Sr """"" *** '^^ ^^^'>- 

bri^t'tT^zs." rr Lte*"" T '^^^' '- -* ^- 

aymbolie offerings to ^ cSln l" ^^ ""'"^^ ""'* *^« 

a^embied at the^ s.:ruXToS^rplr dX" s"^" -^ 
-that famous piazza, where st™^ til f ^ Signona 
massive turreted Palaclof th^ T' ""? ^*^^ '""'' the 
Veochio, andthesMci^w? u'"^'''' '^^ the Palazzo 

of augind'suLrro^s^^'^ Xl^rrr*'^'^^^ 

tent, and under it the bells stnni ,! -^ ? ""* '*'^* ""« 

«piHt With «m. -oS^r^fSttS:;- -; 



93 



ROHOLA. 



i 



hare taken hU light; vindows and terraced loofs were aliv* 
with human facee; sombre atone houses were bright with 
hanging draperies; the boldly soaring palace tower, the yet 
older square tower of the Bargello, and the spire of the neigh- 
boring Badia, seemed to keep watch above; and below, on the 
broad polygonal flags of the piazza, was the glorious show of 
banners, and horses with rich trappings, and gigantic eeri, or 
tapers, that were fitly called towers — strangely aggrandized 
descendants of those torches by whose faint light the Church 
worshipped in the Catacombs. Betimes in the morning all 
processions had need to move under the midsummer sky of 
Florence, where the i <r of the narrow streets must every 
now and then be exoha.^jjdd for the glare of wide spaces; and 
the sun would be high up in the heavens before the long pomp 
had ended its pilgrimage in the Piazza di San Giovanni. 

But here^ where the procession was to pause, the magnifi- 
cent city, with its ingenious Ceooa, had provided another tent 
than the sky; for the whole of the Piazza del Duomo, from 
the octagonal baptistery in the centre to the facade of the 
cathedral and the walls of the houses on the other sides of the 
quadrangle, was covered, at the height of forty feet or more, 
with blue drapery, adorned with well-stitched yellow lilies 
and the familiar coats of arms, while sheaves of many-colored 
banners drooped at fit angles under this superincumbent blue 
— a gorgeous rainbow-lit shelter to the waiting spectators who 
leaned from the windows, and made a narrow border on the 
pavement, and wished for the coming of the show. 

One of these spectators was Tito Melema. Bright, in the 
midst of brightness, he sat at the window of the room above 
Kello's shop, his right elbow resting on the red drapery hang- 
ing from the window-sill, and his head supported in a back- 
ward position by the right hand, which pressed the curls 
against his ear. His face wore that bland liveliness, as far 
removed from excitability as from heaviness or gloom, which 
marks the companion popular alike amongst men and women — 
the companion who is never obtrusive or noisy from imeasy 
vanity or excessive animal spirits, and whose brow is never 
contracted by resentment or indignation. He showed no other 
change from the two mouths and more that had passed since 



f# « 



wmmmMm.Wi:^^ m ^ j,f . 



A PACK m THE CROWD. 93 

that added wdiance of good fortune which is like the juat per- 
oepbble perfecting of a flower after it haa drunk a monX, 
•unbeams Cloee behind him, ensconced in the naJST^fle 
rf^r !"» "'^3"^'l.tJ>«»'i«dow.frame, atood the slim figure 

ReteMhe erudite corrector of proof-sheets, not Domenioo the 
W^^' "!7" ^^^^« alternately down on the scene be- 
m^').Tf "P''*^"?.*^" '""i«'l J^o' "f ga^w and talkers im- 
mediately around hun, some of whom had come in after wit- 
hSTI- .«""^?n~ment of the procession in the Piazza 
deUa Sipiona. Piero di Cosimo was raising a laugh among 
them by his grimaces and anathemas at the noise of the bells! 

.^ll \° ^"^ "^ «"-«t»ffi"8 '^as a sufficient barrioadT 

smce the more he stuffed his ears the more he felt the vibrv 
tion of his skull; and declaring that he would bury himself in 
the most solitary spot of the Valdarno on a /J^ if he w^ 

^LZT""^ " "-P"^**"' *° "« ^ ^"' f°' the secret, rf 
oolor that were sometimes to be caught from the floating of 

bwners and the chance grouping of the multitude. 

« J/ ™^.^ JuBt turn^i his laughing face away from the whim- 

^.^ ^^^}- ^T ** ^^ """^ ^^ 80iBg on among 
tte checkered bwder of spectators, when at L a^gle of thf 
marble Stops in front of the Duomo, nearly opposite NeUo's 
shop, he saw a man's face upturned toward him, and fiiine 
on him a gaze that seemed to have more meaning in it than 
the ordinary passing observation of a stranger. It waa a face 
with tonsured head, that rose above the black mantle and white 
hinio of a Dominium friar_a very common sight in Florence; 
Sat the glance had something peculiar in it for Tito There 
waa a famt suggestion in it, certainly not of an unpleasant 
kind Yet what pleasant association had he ever had with 
monks? None. The glance and the suggestion hardly took 
longer than a flash of lightning. ' 

"Nello!" said Tito, hastily, but immediately added in a 

f^°!f „ ^-P^?*"""*' "■^' ^« *"» *"™«d ~™d. It was 
that tall, ttin fnar who is going up the steps. I wanted you 
to teU me if you knew aught of him? " 
"One of the Frati Predicatori, •' said NeUck oaieleaalyj 



*• ROMOLA. 

"yon don't expect me to know the private Uatoiy of the 
orows." 

"I seem to remember something about his face," said Tito. 
" It is an nnoommon face. " 

"What? you thought it might be our Fra Girolamo? Too 
tall; and he never shows himself in that chance way." 

" Besides, that loud-barking ' hound o* ne Lord ' ' is not in 
Florence just now," said Francesco Cei, the popular poet; 
"he has taken Piero de' Medici's hint, to carry his railing 
prophecies on a journey for a while." 

" The Prate neither rails nor prophesies against any man," 
add a middle-aged personage seated at the other comer of the 
window ; " he only prophesies against vice. K you think that 
an attack on your poems, Francesco, it is not the Frate's 
fault." 

"Ah, he's gone into the Duomo now," said Tito, who had 
watched the figure eagerly. "No, I was not under that mis- 
take, Nello. Your Fra Girolamo has a high nose and a large 
nnder lip. I saw him once — he is not handsome; but this 
man . , ," 

" Truce to your descriptions ! " said Cennini. " Hark I see I 
Here come the horsemen and the banners. That standard," 

he continued, laying his hand familiarly on Tito's shoulder, 

"that carried on the horse with white trappings — that with 
the red eagle holding the green dragon between his talons, and 
the red lily over the eagle— is the Gonfalon of the Guelf 
party, and those cavaliers close round it are the chief officers 
of the Guelf party. That is one of our proudest banners, 
grumble as we may ; it means the triumph of the Guelf s, which 
means the triumph of Florentine will, which means triumph 
of the popolani." 

"Nay, go on, Cennini," said the middle-aged man, seated at 
the window, " which means triumph of the fat popolani over 
the lean, which again means triumph of the fattest popolano 
over those who are less fat." 

"Cronaoa, you are becoming sententious," said the printer; 

' A play on the name of the Dominicans (Domini Ccma) whtoh waa 
accepted by themmlvea, and which is pictorlally repnaented in a fieNO 
fainted ior them by Bimone Memmi. 



A PAOB IN THE CROWD. 



95 



rf^ Ourolamo's preaching wUl spoU you, and make you take 
i u *{ *^\"°"8 handle. Trust me, your oomioes wiU lose 
half their beauty if you begin to mingle bitterness with them: 
that 18 the maniera Tedesca which you used to declaim against 
when you came from Borne. The nezt palace you build we 

uJ^" ^°"* *^"'8 *° P"* ^^^ ^a*«'» doctrine into stone " 
1„. Ji*! "Iv' ^^^^^^-^ °* cavaliers," said Tito, who had 
learned by this time the best way to please Plorentmes: "but 
are aiere not strangers among them? I see foreign costumes." 
Assuredly," said Cennini; "you see there the Orators from 
France, Milan, and Venice, and behind them are English and 
German nobles; for it is customary that all foreign visitors of 
disbnction pay tteir tribute to San Giovanni in the train of 
that gonf^on. For my part, I think our Florentine cavaliers 
sit their horses as well as any of those out-and-thrust north- 
erners, whose wits lie ia their heels and saddles: and for 
yon Veneban I f ancy he would feel himself more at ease on 
the back of a dolphin. We ought to know something of horse- 
m^iship, for we excel all Italy in the sports of the Gioetra, 
and the money we spend on them. But you will see a finm 
show of our chief men by and by, Melema; my brother him- 
self will be among the officers of the Zeoca." 

"The banners are the better sight," said Piero di Cosimoi 

forgetting the noise ia his deUght at the winding stream of 

color as the tributary standards adv-^nced round the piazza. 

jme Florentine men are so-so; the. make but a sorry show 

at this distance with their patch of sa^iow flesh-tint above the 

blMk ^rments ; but those banners with their velvet, and satin. 

and miniver, and brocade, and their endless pky of delicat^ 

light and 8hadowI_ra/ your human talk and doings area 

« V^^'- ^^ passionate life is in form and color." 

Ay, Piero, if Satanasso could paint, thou wouldst sell thy 

^H-^ f?- "^ '"'"'*"•" ^"'^ ^«'^°- "B"* tl'^e is little 
likelihood of It, seemg the blessed angels themselves are such 
poor hands at chiaroscuro, if one may judge from their capo- 
a opera, the Madonna Nunziata." 

" a"^ «" *^ *^* '^°*''* °* ^"* ""i Arezzo," said Cennini. 

Ay, Messer Pisano, it is no use for you to look sullen; voi, 

may as weU carry your banner to our San Giovanm with a 



M 



ROHOLA. 




good grace. 'Pisans false, Florentines blind'— the awyaid 
half of that proverb will hold no longer. There oome the 
ensigns of our subject towns and signories, Melema: they will ~ 
aU be suspended in San Giovanni until this day next year 
when they will give place to new ones." ' 

" They are a fair sight," said Tito; " and San Giovanni will 
surely be as well satisfied with that produce of Italian looms 
as Minerva with her peplos, especially as he contents himself 
with so httle drapery. But my eyes are less delighted with 
those whirling towers, which would soon make me fall from 
the window in sympathetic vertigo." 

The " towers " of which Tito spoke were a part of tiie pro- 
cession esteemed very glorious by the Florentine populace, 
and being perhaps chiefly a kind of hyperbole for the aU-effi- 
oacious wax taper, were also called eeri. But inasmuch as 
hyperbole is impracticable in a real and literal fashion, these 
gigantic ceri, some of them so large as to be of necessity ear- 
ned on wheels, were not soUd but hollow, and had their sur- 
face made not solely of wax, but of wood and pasteboard, 
gilded, carved, and painted, as real sacred tapers often are, 
with successive circles of figures— warriors on horseback, 
foot-soldierg with lance and shield, dancing maidens, animals, 
trees and fruits, and in fine, says the old chronicler, "aU 
things that could delight the eye and the heart " ; the hollow- 
ness having tiie further advantage that men could stand inside 
these hyperboUc tapers and whirl them continuaUy, so as to 
produce a phantasmagoric effect, which, considering the towen 
were numerous, must have been calculated to produee dizziness 
on a truly magnificent scale. 

"PettUenzal" said Piero di Cosimo, moving from the win- 
dow, "those whirling circles one above the other are worse 
than the jangling of aU the bells. Let me know when the last 
taper has passed. " 

" Nay, you will surely like to be called when the contadini 
come carrying their torches, » said NeUo ; " yon would not miss 
the country folk of tiie Mugello and tiie Casentino, of whom 
your favorite Lionardo would make a hundred srotesque 
sketches." 
" 2f o, " said Piero^ resolutely, " I wiU see nothing till the car 



^V%'W^ 



A FACE m THE CROWD. 



•7 



r*!*! ^ "T**- ^ """^ ■««" ''1»'^« '""Ugh holdinK taoers 
«lant, both w.th and without oowls, to last me forty iT" 

™.f vT r°""' """"' Pi^o-the oar of the Zecca," oaUed 
out NeUo after an interval during which towers Z tepTIn 

-nS*.",^'^'' 1 "^-.'""^ "««'■' ""^8 their .low Csit 

^wi^w, exclaimed Francesco Cei, "that is a we 1 

tajjned San Giovanni! some sturdy EomignoFe begg^-m^ 

ru warrant. Our Signoria plays the host to all Vhf^ewUh 

and lets them fatten on us like St. Anthony's swme." 
.i»ht^^ • *y\f^. °' Mint, which had just roUed into 

a splendid car, and drawn by two mouse-colored oxen wh<»a 
mild heads looked out from rich trappings be^g the arms 

»t^; T- .^"^ "^^ '*'**" ^"^^ of aie centu^^^ geS 
rather ashamed of the towers with their circJar or sS 

ITJ^f "^^ ^? •^"'■Khted the eyes and the h^ oTt^ 
other hal^ so that they had become a contemptuous proverb! 
^danyiU-painted figure looking, as will sometime. hapS 
1 wir„»n^'' ^'^ ages of art, as if it had been boned tea 
pie, was called a fantoecio da cero, a tower-puppet- conse- 
quently improved taste, with Cecca to help it, had deVis^for 
^magnificent Zeoca a triumphal car like a%ytmir^lS- 

ewuy. Bound the base were living figures of saints an.1 

at the height of thirly feet, well bound to an iron rod^d 
holdmg an iron cross also firmly infixed, stood a liviuKrer^ 
sentative of St. John the Baptist, with LnnZl CVa™ t 

fastened on his head-as the Precursor was wont to appear in 
tte cloisters and churches, not having yet revealed hiS^lf Z 
punters as the brown and sturdy boy who made one oTthe 

S mol^l ^- , Z !?"" °°'^** *^" ^-^^ °* «"» Patron saint 
b. more fitly placed than on the symbol of the Zecca? Was 

^t a city had won ite independenoe? and by the blessing of 
San Giovanni this "beautiful sheepfold" of his hadshl^ 



iM' 



98 



ROXOIJL 



that token earliaat amopg the Italian oitiee. Nerertheleis, 
the annual function of lepreeenting the patron saint was not 
among the high prizes of public life; it was paid for with 
something like ten shillings, a cake weighing fourteen pounds, 
two bottles of wine, and a handsome supply of light eatables; 
the money being furnished by the magnificent '' cca, and the 
payment in kind being by peculiar "privilege " resented in a 
basket suspended on a pole from an upper window of a private 
house, whereupon the eidolon of the austere saint at once in- 
vigorated himself with a reasonable share of the sweets and 
wine, threw the remnants to the crowd, and embraced the 
mighty cake securely with his right arm through the remainder 
of his passage. This was the attitude in which the mimic 
San Giovanni presented himself as the tall car jerked and 
vibrated on its slow way round the piazza to the northern gate 
of the Baptistery, 

" There go the Masters of the Zeoca, and there is my brother 
— you see him, Melema? " cried Gennini, with an agreeable 
stirring of pride at showing a stranger what was too familiar 
to be remarkable to fellow-citizens. " Behind come the mem- 
bers of the Corporation of Calimara,' the dealers in foreign 
cloth, to which we have given our Florentine finish; men of 
ripe years, you see, who were matriculated before you were 
bom; and then comes the famous Art of Money-changers." 

" Many of them matriculated also to the noble art of usury 
before you were bom," interrupted Francesco Cei, "as you 
may discern by a certain fitful glare of the eye and sharp curve 
of the nose which manifest their descent from the ancient 
Hary^i IS, whose portraits yon saw supporting the arms of the 
Zecca. Shaking oft old prejudices now, such a procession as 
that of some four hundred passably ugly men carrying their 
tapers in open daylight, Diogenes-fashion, as if they were 
looking for a lost quattrino, would make a merry spectacle for 
the Feast of Fools." 

" Blaspheme not against the usages of our city," said Pietro 
Cennini, much offended. " There are new wits who think they 
see things more truly because they stand on their heads to 

'"Arte dl Calimara," "arte" being, la this dw of it, eqnlTalsnt to 
ooipontion. 



A FACE I» THE CROWD. gg 

look at them, like tmnbleri and mountebank., initead of keeo- 
mgtheatttude of rational men. DouS it m^L I.^, 
d^erenoe to Maestro Vaiano'. monkey, whether they we ou" 

T h7°"» ~?"^i.ty 'ill allow some quarter to playful fancy, 

jnoient^ whose example you scholar, are bound to revere 
Me«er Pxetro? Life wa. never anything but a per^t^ .^ 
saw between gravity and jest." r r" "~ -.w- 

Zlf'L / f*°°»'' """ "^8'^' """<» "">* i8 notwhen'Sle 
great bond of our Republic is expressing itself in ancient sym- 
bols without which the vulgar would be conscious of noting 
beyond their own petty wants of back and stomach, and never 
r« K^ " ^"^ "' community in religion and law. There 
ha. been no great people without processions, and the man who 
thinks himself too wise to be moved by thei to anythi^ bu? 
contempt is like the puddle that wa. proud of standing alona 
while the nver rushed by." 

Hlf^ T '^'t'^y^^e after this indignant burst of Cenniui'. 
till he himself spoke again. ^^ 

8t|«e of the .how, Melema. That is our Qonfaloniere in the 
middle, in the starred manUe, with the sword carried before 
lum. Twenty years ago we used to see our foreign Podest4. 
who was our judge in civU causes, walking on hi. right hand^ 
tat our Eepubho ha. been over-doctored by olev« ilf«iW 
That 1. the Proposto ■ of the Priori on the left , then come ^e 
other seven Prion; then aU the other magistracies and offlciahi 
,?mv ^P" "*• ^°" ^ y°"' patron the Segretario? " 
There i. Me.ser Bernardo del Nero also," said Tito- "hi. 
visage 18 a fine and venerable one, though it ha. worn nJther a 
petrify mg look toward me." 

J^^i'\fi ^f^°' "h^ '" ^^^ ^"^^ ^^* guards the rem- 
nant of old Bardo's gold, which, I fancy, is chiefly that virgin 
gold that faUs about the fair Romola's head and should^.. 
eh, my Apollmo? " he added, patting Tito's head. 
* Spoknmnaa oi' Muderstor. 



100 



ROMOI.A. 



.i^^ ««• youthful gTM. of blurting, but he h«l ,1«, th. 

He wu Mved from the need for further speech bv th. «^ 
• blast, and a whistling well befitting a city famous for^ 

inS^iSi^rmtlo^SfirdS': SnVsL^ 

greeting-Uie sweet round blue-eyed face under a whiteW 
-immediately lost in the narrow border of h^ wTe™ i^ 
W K r'"",*'^"'^ ""P"* °' ">»°<i oontadinrchelks L r 
^dlir^n^?"".'"^"' '^'"^^^of anoW^SdlS! 

twere^^r'^lrreSed"!: t:.^Z Z^St^^^ "^ 
STn-^eTirh^i— S^^ 

£rrrw-\x^^--7H5°^ 

eh, Sl'^r;^'- ^ «-* y- -« ""^ .ignalsV 

£;or^^rf!^s^.i.T?L7s:;?-ste 

have gone in search of adventures together in the crowd wd 
had some pleasant fooling in honor of San GiovZi ^Tnt 

PeS/^t^.r"""'^-*"— Idon^eanS 
profe.«» a mantle-tA« u roomy enough to hide a few stol«^ 



mmmm^^m 



A "AM'8 RANSOM. m 

P« I«l Mn tetto • geotll* a cortMe. • " 

founded h»bWin« wonM^ i, u ^ °"°"°° '''»' ""»•' *"■ 
yourself." ""'PP" y*'" "• alw«y» profewing 

that I talk any follyTtout her " ^ ^''" °" '»"' ^ 



CHAPTER IX 

■* « n's BANSOK. 

Tito was soon down among the crowd and nn*»ti. ^ j 



i^ 



m 



ROXOLA. 



If 



hang about fhe ainTfike Sj J "fti t'^Kj!^'' ""»»«>""»• 
-beat to .w„p the« . Ari'SLrl^iteT'*"'^'^ 
occupation for hi. thoughU. Bv T« t,'^. k ^ P'eManter 
of th, Corao degli Adimarf into a aide atrStT '""""» ""' 
only that the aun waa high Md th»f fK * "" '=""'» 

iim longer than he had itn^^ f ^ P""*"*"" had kept 

the Via^e' Bard^W^r ISrhJ^n^iJ "^^ '""'"?' 
awaited. He felt tJiA .»»„ """'"'g. ne Knew, was anxiously 

icy b^unin? d ffi^SyT^e bSd";'"''r^'r^'"''= *^- 
semi-transMrent lamn IhJ^ '"°" ^'^^ ""> "K^t in a 

face and nKrsi^.rin'irt "" .^'"''^''* 
only gave it the exquisite cW of l™"',^"""''*'*^' '"»* 
heightened stm more by what^^ t? J ""'""eness, 
frankness of her look^Iit^TrhT"^^^ ^^'^^ 
rades in the world duri^T^aT .v *^ "'" **« ^* oom- 
the blind mal^ch^ fh!^' ''°"" ^'^ P*"**^ '"Kcther round 
and he was Wor£ji.er irt^etht''^ fr"^^* *" T'*"^ 
jeotion to Bomola wfth thT.imJf,! "?v" '^"^^'^y ^ ""b" 
first time, withoutTflnLlTf^T^ ./"".'^ l"" *«" for the 
the presence of noble woZhl^ ^^5' '^'^ '°^8 ""'« i" 
like the worshipDaid o^nM r^' "^^'"^ " P"'"'?'' a<»"ething 
was not al^iS butwtse lif* rdt""""''-^'^'^''"' '^° 



A JCAW8 RANSOlf. jog 

Or.ec,, M h.ZS„LTo^ Vwiltl''""- m"^' ^^^ «" 
Wwk-,yed peMant girl, who had .«t^ ^ "" '°'' * ""'^ 
wall, crept gradually nU«, .n^ "''^ '"' water-pot on the 
riiylyaakcdhimtokiwTr ^l'"''*"\'° '"'"' *"<» •» l"t 

...^ faahion?^ Bat BoTolSov, w;'„,d ne"*"" " ""' "- 
" ' ^ »o. M ,; ,ver come at .llV ? J""'"."*''*' "^me in that 

rm uM,p... „a^b!^^"'°'''.t, H« *M in hia fresh 

without a vision of Lh a ft.iSi'*':.*"^" '''°"«'" was not 
interview with BSoamSZfhr- ^"""ta-'Piciou. 
ment of a growlT^av™ o^ tK ^T"^ ""» <=°'^enoe- 

to an issue whilh Luid J™^ secretary's part, and had led 
on Florence aa he pS t^^lT^tK""^ ^•'° •^««'<J« 
it had held no other ma 'etp^!?. "»'""'«'' ^"^^». even if 
Mwell as Utin at R^«nl ^"'l'"^ '''" P«>fes8or of Greek 

UinedthereJtltLJhtteZlf'f '^'"/i*^ "''"" '«''''« '"»*■" 
but for a long tiC DemetX CaW^^'l'* ^^ ""'<^'«'itoPi8ai 
nent and respectTble^onrth* « "^ -°'" °* '^' °""' •""'' 

aOreekchair^ BimuitTZfly :* hXe too.''"^ '"' ^'^° ''*''* 
Calcondi»a was now go^to Mi^!„ .^rj''*'^°"''"''°"'^>''''- 
Poi»e or rival to PoS^.nh ' '^"l"'"'™ '^s no counter- 
Wends who wild h^°riL'Z':Tf, '"^ '•■" "y *•''' 
humiUty. Soala was for L™ i!f^ .. '""'* Propriety and 
<^, Zd he fo^ITeveaWhoIr,? '""^ °"'^ '""""^ "^ '""' 
thirsty admirers of medio^,;^ thl! *^ "Tl '"" '^°°8 *''°'« 

with his verse, in h^ w::^*terrv?t' "> *" 'f "'"^^^ 
wcamer, were yet nuite wiUuig to join 



r .: 



IM 



ROHOLA. 



hm ta domg that moral aarrioe to PoUtian. It was flnally 
agreed that Tito should be supported in a Greek chair, as D^ 
metno Caloondila had been by Lorenzo himself, who, being at 
the same time the afteotionate patron of PoUtian, had abown 
by precedent that there was nothing invidious in such a meas- 
nre, but only a zeal for true learning and for the instruction 
of the Florentine youth. 

Tito was thus sailing under the fairest breeze, and besides 
oonvincing fair judges that his talents squared with his good 
fortune, he wore that fortune so easily and unpretentiously 
that no one had yet been offended by it. He was not unlikely 
to get into the best Florentine society : society where there was 
much more plate than the circle of enamelled silver in the eeajm 
of the brass dishes, and where it was not forbidden by the Si- 
gnoiy to wear the richest brocade. For where could a handsome 
young scholar not be welcome when he could touch the lute 
and troll a gay song? That bright face, that easy smile, that 
hquid voice, seemed to give life a holiday aspect; just as a 
strain of gay music and the hoisting of colors make the work- 
worn and the sad rather ashamed of showing themselves. 
Here was a professor likely to render the Greek classics ami- 
able to the sons of great houses. 

And that was not the whole of Tito's good fortune; for he 
had sold aU his jewels, except the ring he did not choose to 
part with, and he was master of full five hundred gold florins. 
Yet the moment when he first had this sum in his posses- 
sion was the crisis of the first serious struggle his facile, good- 
humored nature had known. An importiunate thought, of 
which he had till now refused to see more than tl a shadow as 
It dogged his foototeps, at last rushed upon him and grasped 
him: he was obliged to pause and decide whether he would 
surrender and obey, or whether he would give the refusal that 
must carry irrevocable consequences. It was in the room 
above Nello's shop, which Tito had now hired as a lodging 
that the elder Cennini handed him the last quota of the sum 
on behalf of Bernardo EuoeUai, the purchaser of the two most 
valuable gems. 

" Eeeo, tfiovanemio/" said the respectable printer and gold- 
smith, "you have now a pretty little fortune; and if you will 



A lUK-B BANSOM. jqS 

take my advice, yoa wiU let me pUwe ronr fln.^ i 
quMter, where they may ineL^J .l?^"'.*" » "^^ 
"lipping through your S««7^t multiply, instead of 

wUch ^e rife lunonTJ^r .' ^^''*"' "^"^ "'l'" 'oUies 
too much tte 3n of ^h, ""' ^''"*?- ^"^ " "«» ^^ 
Pietro CrinZ ^y fh,-„w1?^ "? ^especially when, like our 

and broidTrS SSr wtr^'^'r'!'' "^^ *" >« '"^''''d 
fain to beg with th^X itaT tuth " *'^'"''' '^«' 
and you are free to make a wise oUrf" ^°" ^« """"'y' 
see on which side the balLce d^n. w %f^ ""'"''«= ^ ''"^^ 
man a member o? an Art Wl haL .^' ^'r"*^'" ^d no 
matriculated: and notLi! . f "'^ '"^ ^l'"' a^-J been 
he has been weU tapted ''^'^^'^'''^^ ^ ">e art of life till 
your florins out to u^^^f you cXt\"'' 'T "^'^ *» P"* 
scholar may marry. ,md shoulH. "7 *°-"«'"°''- A 

for the «.<4e„^:."'iS,'^ '"'"" '»"'«'«'i°8 i» ^adiness 

wi^'S'SieS^'ttrL'?''' '^J'*" *"-<» "---I 

table where the Ss lay He Zr** ^T" ^" "^"^ °" «•« 
stood with his thumbs in his be?t^^v°° f"' "'°^<«°enti but 
fixed state whichr^m^nL iV^ *.'^°J°' '° *^'* *'""'■ 
ness on some inw^l^ """^^^^o- °f «»»scioua- 

" A man's ransom f " who was if <-;,.<. v j . •. „ 

florim, was more than a rn^rr™?'"!^,""* ^^^ ^^^ 
midday sun, on some hot cTast ZZ[y a IT' ""'*''' ^^ 
stricken in years— a m«nn„f\v.r?^' * ™"' somewhat 
the most J«s"^ h^^a .^^°t t'*^ "'°"«^*'' "«* ^^ 
cued a UtSe boy fromT^ „fT ° '^1« y*"" '*' '"'d "«■ 
^reared ^S^^lV^'it^^^'^'^tthr ^ 

feted because he :r„rSStSS"*rK'f° """^ ''^■ 
to himself, "Tito will find me. he CbL to o» J'" "^^^ 
scripts and gems to Venice- h« win k."P^°" ■"»"»- 
will never rlt till he find"'me o't »?" H S' '"'""^' ""' 
could he, Tito, see the r>Jl ^tk , "^* """ "^tain, 

say, " I wil sCttw ^ ^ **""' 'y^°8 ^^°"' h™, and 

say will stay at Florence, where I am fanned by soft aira 

n^ tZ^Z^"^ •»'-««— to the bride th. da, ,,..«...«, 



^^^^^.^wm-^ ^w^^i^- 



106 



ROHOUL 



of promiaed lore and piMperity; I will not risk myaelf for his 
sake " ? Ko, surely not, if it were eertain. But nothing could 
be farther from certainty. The galley had been taken by a 
Turkish vessel on its way to Delos : that was known by the 
report of the companion galley, which had escaped. B«t there 
had been resistance, and probable bloodshed; a man had be>m 
seen falling overboard : who were the survivors, and what had 
befallen them amongst all the multitude of possibilities? Had 
not he, Tito, suffered i Mpwreok and narrowly escaped drown- 
ing? He had good cause for feeling the omnipresence of cas- 
ualties that threatened all projects with futility. The rumor 
that they were pirates who had a settlement in Delos was not 
to be depended on, or might be nothing to the purpose. Whaij 
probably enough, would be the result if he were to quit 
Florence and go to Venice; get authoritative letters — yes, he 
knew that might be done — and set out lor the Archipelago? 
Why, that he should be himself seized, and spend ail his flor- 
ins on preliminaries, and be again a destitute wanderer — with 
30 more gems to sell. 

Tito had a clearer vision of that result than of the possible 
moment when he might Snd his father again, and carry him 
deliverance. It would surely be an unfairness that he, in his 
full ripe youth, to whom life had hitherto had some of the 
stint and subjection of a school, should turn his back on prom- 
ised love and distinction, and perhaps never be visited by that 
promise again. "And yet," he said to himself, "if I were 
certain that Baldassarre Calvo was alive, and that I could free 
him, by whatever exertions or perils, I would go now — now I 
have the money : it was useless to debate the matter before. 
I would go now to Bardo and Bartolommeo Scala, and tell 
them the whole truth." Tito did not say to himself so dis- 
tinctly that if those two men had known the whole truth he 
was aware there would have been no alternative for him but to 
go in search of his benefactor, who, if alive, was the rightful 
owner of the gems, and whom he had always equivocally spo- 
ken of as " lost " ; he did not say to himself —what he was not 
ignorant of — that Greeks of distinction had made sacrifices, 
taken voyages again and again, and sought help from crowned 
and mitred beads for the sake of freeing relatives from slavery 



A MAN'S RANSOM jq^. 

ifipulses had been ™oe^ Ct ^7°'' ^1. *""* *"* *^°« 

sidered this part of hi^TondueTfnn '' J"* '"^ °«^<« ""n- 

«oi<manessofhU motive, for^Vr* T"«^ '■" ''"'^ *!»« oon- 

"«e of telling the w W It ».. r"^.""?*- ^''^t '=>» ^e 

tia mind aeveral (^2'3incehril^n'''t^*^°"«''*^'''* ''""'"d 

«U. it waa a great «h7to be ' ^1^^'-" ""'^ '^*«' 
would have liked tn i,^„ i ? Baldassarre, and he 

board. B^t „^t,LuSs:rf;i7'",*!'f '''''^ '•^'>- ove'' 
that is irksome. S»lr« i * ""'^''^''ly out of a relation 
8er as he got oldert^^™ "f *°> "^"^ ^="1 8°t stran- 

mi^dtosefwhetheritlZdTht ^ "™''°"^8 '^''"'^ 
tationsi and age-theTeTa tllw r\"*«8''*'«'^«P«<=- 
man beyond s^who^Lten.^.?^ beavy-browed, bVd 
of ideas have long t^eTtWwt. T^"""^ ^ *be grasp 
Ktion, may be l^k^ at flt^^ ' °^- ""'°°*°°y '^^ ™Pe- 
being fouud attractive sthrmLT'';'."*" '''"'°"' 
acquaintances, unless he h^d tL t^, '""**'^ «™°"8 new 

ar ,^ youLxrbeiSy'at hTtr^ Th^ r-^ 

S^r::i?;,-X"£Khs^^^^^^^ 
TuiS,iE^i=-?.^Ser--^- 

was only seven year, oU B jL^ "membered life, when he 
blows, had takent^^ to'at^^w ^^ ^T"^ ^'"> *«»» 
adise, where there waTsteTfL^ * T""*^ "''^ "P'^^d P-"- 
bad on Baldassaire'T^I lf?l and soothing caresses, all 
tbey had parted,^to had b^.^t/'^''" "''" """« till the hour 
fatherly cares. *'"^'"*« ""^ "«°tre of Baldassarre's 

-ty^a^^i.^r^^tlgh^iabK qjUok of apprehension, 
splendid grace, who seempH . 1 ^.'~^' " y°"tb of even 



108 



ROHOI^ 





baUmoed that it could know no uneasy dasiies, no nnieat— • 
radiant preseaoe for a lonely man to have won for himielf. 
If he were silent when his father expected some response, still 
he did not look moody; if he declined some labor— why, he 
flung himself down with such a charming, half-smiling, half- 
pleading air that the pleasure of looking at him made amanda 
to one who had watched his growth with a sense of claim and 
possession: the curves of Tito's mouth had ineffable good 
humor in them. And then, the quick talent to which every- 
thing came readily, from philosophical systems to the rhymes 
of a street ballad caught up at a hearing I Would any one 
have said that Tito had not made a rich return to his benefac- 
tor, or that his gratitude and afFeotion would fail on any great 
demand? 

He did not admit that his gratitude had failed; but it mai 
not certain that Baldassarre was in slavery, not certain that he 
was living. 

" Do I not owe something to myself? " said Tito, inwardly, 
with a slight movement of his shoulders, the first he had made 
since he had turned to look down at the florins. " Before I 
quit everything, and incur ^gain all the risks of which I am 
even now weary, I must at least have a reasonable hope. Am 
I to spend my life in a wandering search? / hdieee he it dead. 
Cennini was right about my florins : I will place them in his 
hands to-morrow." 

When, the next morning, Tito put this determination into 
act he had chosen his color in the game, and had given an in- 
evitable bent to his wishes. He had made it impossible that 
he should not from henceforth desire it to be the truth that 
his father was dead ; impoMiUe that he should not be tempted 
to baseness rather than that the precise facts of his conduct 
should not remain forever concealed. 

Under evary guilty secret there is hidden a brood of guilty 
wishes, whose unwholesome infecting life is cherished by the 
darkness. The contaminating effect of deeds often lies less 
in the commission than in the consequent adjustment of our 
desires — the enlistment of our self-interest on the side of 
falsity ; as, on the other hand, the purifying influence of pub- 
lic confession springs from the fact that by it the hope in lie« 



DNDKH THB PLANB-TRBB. 109 

SSZiir*'"'"' •"' ''• -""^ "--™ thenoble^ttitude 

concentrated themadytT ZTt^« "^.^ ""^rrupted had now 
united and nwde a oWef J^ w.^ "* selfishneas had 
meet with tlTl^e S^i~ mt^7 T^ never again 
vgae indeciaion the q^ti^whethl :fh ?^*" "^ '"'' ^ 
power, he would not retumJ^L "'."'* '^^^ ^ ^ 

^had now -deTdeS^TelTr^ei^ornr'; i'*^' 
that course; hehadavo».j*„i,- v. " ^°' °°* taking 

We been ^h^e^ rrott^'f "^ "^^r '''''"« '»"" 
made him ashamtd t Z !L^„n^ '^^ '^Wch would have 
But the inward eham^ rt« ^""8«nt Presence of his father. 

the great heaS ofTa^k^d " aL fo?!" "'"^'•.'"'' "'^'''^ 
« reflex which will P»i«f ., "^ , ^"^ individual man, 
impulses ttat ne^iriaw h„T "^X'^^^ °^ '^' »ympatheti 
pity as inevitobrM fh« K . ^\*° *^« '^«*<^ «* fidelity and 

f attaokTS "e^ilS en::?'l\SS.t5r« ^^^ 
showing its blushes in Tito's det«™i„.H^ 1^ '**'"* ''»» 

that hi. father was d««,'tirfira::r:«lX" 



CHAPTER X. 

won, THK PLAKXI'Bn. 

tha^'Tt'ht^^crd ss IT •^■^' *- -«"«■ -^ 

that as he set ^tti" SiTv a de^S .""'.'' ""^^ "^^ 
outward signs of a mind at eLl How^JIm it ^t^ "^ • '^^ 
He never jarred with what ^H ; ^°*."'°"''» " be otherwise? 
hisnature was toTiovZ. * ^*"*""*^y *""■«» Wm, and 

turned out of the hot «„11 f T °* " •'™'^- As he 

Btreet, took off^e bLk 0,0^.!:^.^ "'""''' "' " °-™- 

-» was no brrsSt^r^-crs^-i 



r 



110 



IH 




ROMOLA. 



th«e any gtanp of ctuidor: it was simply a finely formed, 
square, smooth young brow. And the slow absent glance be 
cast around at the upper windows of the houses had neither 
more dissimulation in it, nor more ingenuousness, than belongs 
to a youthful well-opened eyelid with its unwearied breadth of 
gaze; to perfectly pellucid lenses; to the undimmed dark of a 
rich brown iris; and to a pure eerulean-tinted angle of white- 
ness streaked with the deUoate shadows of long eyelashes 
Was It that Tito's face attracted or repelled according to the 
mental attitude of the obserrer? Was it a cipher with more 
than one key? The strong, unmistakable expression in his 
whole air and person was a negative one, and it was perfectly 
veracious; it declared the absence of any uneasy claim, anv 
restless vanity, and it made the admiration that followed hii 
as he passed among the troop of holiday-makers a thoroughly 
wiUmg tribute. ^ ' 

For by this time the stir of the Festa was felt even in the 
narrowest side streets ; the throng which had a.\ one time been 
concentrated in the lines through which the procession had to 
pass was now streaming out in aU directions in purauit of a 
new object. Such intervals of a Festa are precisely the mo- 
ments when the vaguely active animal spirits of a crowd are 
likely to be the most petulant and most ready to sacrifice a 
stray individual to the greater happiness of the greater num- 
ber. As Tito entered the neighborhood of San Martino, he 
found the throng rather denser; and near the hostelry of the 
Bertwre, or Baboons, there was evidenUy some object which 
was arresting the passengers and forming them into a knot 
It needed nothing of great interest to draw aside passengers 
unfreighted with a purpose, and Tito was preparing to turn 
aside into an adjoining street, when, amidst the loud laughter 
his ear discerned a distressed chUdish voice crying, "Loose 
me: Holy Virgin, help me! " which at once determined him 
to push his way into the knot of gazers. He had just had 
tune to perceive that the distressed voice came from a young 
contadina, whose white hood had faUen off in the stru^le to 
get her hands free from the grasp of a man in the party-colored 
dress of a cerretano, or conjurer, who was making laughing 
attempU to soothe and o^ole her, evidanUy carrying with 



UNDKR THB PLANE-TRBB. HI 

him the amnwKl sympathy of the ipeotaton. Th««.hv.,« 
withTk. -Tt^- . "" e<l>"^al<>ntB, seemed to be anmim 

right have you to hold her against her wUl?" ^^ 

apologetic, half-protesting mamier ^'"' 

lapful of confetti as a reward But what ^n^T"^ ^l' * 
doubtless better confetH at hand, and sh^Ws it^*"" "" 
l^Zr^fjT '^°°« "" bystander, accompanied these 

sLnJ r"". ''*' ''"''' "^"^ P'-'-'ed h" hand wit"S^iT 



■^#* 



lis 



ROHOIX 



uation, hMtened to get clear of obeerr.™ who, h.viii» been 

sac:'bT£r^ •""^""-'^ -"• '- ^ -^^ 

" See, see, litUe onel here is your hood," said the ooniurer 
ttrowmg the b t of white drape^ over Tei^^'s he^ ^^^ 
bear me no maUoe, come b«>k to me when Meniere o«, .^ 

je«ag how Tessa started and dirank at the action of tteT^n- 

Tito pushed his way rigorously toward the comer of a side 

de Bardi, and intending to get rid of the poor Uttle contadina 
as soon as possible. The next street, tocThad its passM*^^ 
mchned to make holiday remarks on so lus«alaT«^7b^ 
they had no sooner entered it than he «ud, in a kind but hw- 
ned manner, "Now, little one, where we;,you going? Te 
you come by yourself to the Festa?" 

a«!l^'"°I 'w w"'"*' ^°°^« '^8'"«"'^ ""* distressed 
^, I have lost my mother in the crowd-her and my 
&ther-m.Uw They will be angry-he will beat me uZ 
I c^^t'.^ "■ ^"^ Pulinari-somebody pushed me along I^ 
l^t. ^^'^^^' "^ ^ 8°* "'"y '"« them. Oh, I don't 
know where they're gone! Please, don't leave me I'' 

wiS'a Mb." '"'"^^ "^^ **^ '«^' ">* *e end«l 

Tito hurried along again : the Church of the Badia was not 

^ NoMt wL'^f ^^r]^ talk to Tessa^p^aps leave 
but th«v i T ^ 'T '* "^"^ the church was no? open: 
but ttey paused under the shelter of the cloUter, and he said, 

wS^ r" ''° °°'"'"', °' '■■'"'^ '" ^°"«"'<'. ^7 little TessS 

™Zlf ^'"^°""°,:^ 'ouafr,id of walking^ 

y^urseU smce you h ^ ^ ^^ ^ . « "^ 

am u a hurry to eet to c r J^.,ij i i 

where near--" *^ ^ ~"^'^ *»^" y°" "y- 

And^l* Hn^.? ff '«''*«°!^ = he was the devU_I know he was. 
And I don't know where to go. I have nob^y: and mj" 



^ • tl» !.„:.> ii»M •» 



TJHDEB THB PLANI-TRBt. 113 

iMttw nieant to have h.r dinner .omewhere, «id I don't know 
where. /loly Madonna 1 I ahaU be beaten '• 

The comers of the pouting mouth went down piteouslv and 
tt« poor httU3 bo«,m with the bead, on it above thi^^U™ 
gown heaved so, that there wa. no longer any hel^h'^a 
^ud «>b u^« ^me, and the big tears feU ^ 7f th« wer^ 

^Cbt'tilt f""- . "'" '" • "*-«-' " --^d 

- ^"j .^\'"'''«d »t «»»t moment that he had not teen 
•xpwtod in the Via de' Bardi. A, he saw her Hftingl her 
Sit/r *° '*'°!' the h„,^g tesrs, h. laid hfs ^" 

can be done. Where is your home-where do you live? " 

JirdTps-^zTiSctr" '^'^ ^ '"'*^''' " "*^ 

yo:w::'to''j;..^''^°" " ""^'"^^' "you-UteHmewher. 

•.rrh^™"^" '.!"l'°'^ ?""*''' *"" '^K*" *° '°ok as contented 
as a ohemb's budding from a cloud. The diaboUcal ooniuiw 

wW.~^"^ w *° ''°°'^' " y°"'" *»^» "">>" "1"' ""d. in a half 
^isper, looking up at Tito with wide blueeyeCand^ 
•omething sweet.r than a smUe-with a ohUdlike «Jm. 

Come, then little one," said Tito, in a caressing tone, put- 
tmg her arm within his again. « Which way is it? » ^ 
«?^?? Peretola-where the large pear-tree is." 
Peretola? Out at which gate, pazzarella? I am a stran- 
ger, you must remember." 

"Ou^ at the Per del Prato," said Tessa, moving along with 
a very fast hold on Tito's arm. -» « """"K ^^ 

.n^l*^'** "ot know all the turnings well enough to venture on 

ZntV^'^^" l'" '»""'*«'* "*'««*«; and beside<s°° 
occurred to him that where the passengers were most nu- 

^rnt'o^r ^f ' P?*«P». ">« ""ost chance of meeting with 
MonnaQhita and finding an end to his knight-errantship So 
he made straight for Porte Bossa, and on to Ognissanti, show- 
ing his usual bright propitiatory face to the Sxed ob^w 



tl 



'■ If 



n4 



ROMOLA. 



w»aw*Ubei«Ufy. Mingled with the more decent hoUdw- 
S:^?:!,''"'J??""*""' "PP^ntio-i, rather ^xnon^f 

ririon at Tito', evident h^itej dioer., .har^ and loZS« 
oonoert at th. mort brutal street game.: for the .treeto of 

u^^onrbr " •"'"' '°" ^ ''• »"'"* '- "<" '•">% 

hi,^.*^t^I ""^"1^k\^'"" d'Ogni.«mti, Tito .laokened 
hu pace, they were both heated with their hurried walk, and 

„t ^r" * '^ ''•'•" ^"^ '^^ t^« brwith They 

sat down on one of the stone benches which were frequeS 
•gainst the walls of old Florentine honw. ™1»™» 

fJl^°/^ VirginI " said Tessa; " I am glad we hare got awar 
y^'co^^M'tTr-oS^^.V --Iwasnotfrightenearb^Z: 

.^Liyo^iSlfZUtSe^i^"^^'*'-- "^ 

P.l^T/°" ■" ,? '^"t«^-like the i«opl. going into 
Paradise: they are all good." 

„M t!? ' '°°' ''^"* ■^°* y°" h^ yo" breakfast, Tewa." 
«d Tib^ seeing «,me rtalU near, with fruit and swertmS^ 
upon them. "Are you hungry?" """""aw 

" Ye^ I think I am-if you will haye some too." 

thStSi* a'p^."^"'"*'' '^' *^"' *""* ~"^*^ -<> P-* 

"Come," he said, "let us walk on to the Prato, and then 

perhap. you wiU not be afraid to go the r4st of the ^ay alon^ 

But you wUl haye some of the apricots and things," said 

th7n7.nl. l>«^econt«iina who might inspire a better idyl 
than Lorena, de' Medici's ' Neneiada Barberino,' that NeUo's 

to^dJlM;'""*' " ^ ^'^ «°'J' » '^'>~«"*". o' had time 
to oultiyate the necessary experience by un««inable walks 



WDMR TH* PLAKl-TRBa. 



lUt 



<rf thi. iortl Howerer, the miwhief is done now: I m «, 

" We hare a garden and plenty of pears," uid Tena. "and 
tjro oow^ beaide. the mule,; and I'm Teiy fand of tW But 
myf^er-m-law « , ore. man: I wiah my mother had not 
mwned^. I think he i, wicked; he i. yery ugly." 

And doea your mother let him beat you, porerkia? You 
•Md you were afraid of being beaten." ' ^ *^ »f lou 

«rter better, and think. I don't do ;ork enough. NoWy 
T^ kmdly to me, only the Pieyaao" (pariri, prieat) « whej 
I go to confession. And the men in the Meroato laugh at me 
«d make fun of me. Nobody ever kis<»d me and spoke t^ 
me a. you do, ju.t as I talk to my little black-faced Ud. be- 
cauM I'm Teiy fond of it." 

.nl*.r'°'^°°rJ*°,^*''* *°*'™^ T"""'" °^d that there was 
wy chuige m Tito', appearance since the morning he begged 
the mUk from her, and that he looked now like a personagf f» 
whom Bbe must summon her little stock of revereVt words and 
^' V u^ •n'P'es«Hl her too differently from any human 
«„™f. • ^r'".,'^' "«" ^« before, for her to make any 
companaon of details; she took no note of his dress; he wm 
simply a voice and a face to her, something come fr Jm Para- 
diM into a world where moet thing, seemed hard and amnr • 
and .he prattled with as little restraint as if he had beenLi' 
irn^ary companion bom of her own lovingnes. and the sun- 

They had now reached the Prato, which at that time waa a 
httge open space within the walls, where the Florentine youth 
played at their favorite Caicio-„ peculiar kind of football- 
Md otherwise exercised themselves. At this midday time it 
was forsaken and quiet to the very gates, where a tent had 
teen erected m preparation for the race. On the border of 
this wide meadow, Tito paused and said,— 

w.'l7r' '^T'2 ^v°" '''" °°' ^ lightened if I leave you to 
wiUk the rest of the way by yourself. Addiol ShaU I come 
and buy a cup of milk from you in the Meroato to-morrow 
morning, to see that you are quite safe? » 



•«<"OCO»Y MSOUmOM TBT CMAIT 

(ANSI ond ISO TEST CHAKT No. 2) 




iift 



1.4 



^ /APPLIED IIVHGE he 

■^— ~- 1653 Et»t Mom Strtvt 

=^ ii»och«t«r, Nmr Vorii 14809 USA 

SiS {'t6) 482 - 0300 - Phor)« 

S^S (716) 2B8-MS9-Fg)< 



116 



ROMOLA. 



1^' 



He added thw questUm in a eoothing toneu at lie saw her 
eyee ^denmg sorrowfuUy, and the comer, of her month faU- 

l2fv«i i" . ?'*^*. "' ^*' "^^ °°^y "P"^ !■« »Pn»» aid 
looked down at her apncots and Bwettmeats. Then she looked 
np at him again and said oomplaiiiingly,— 

"I thought you would have some, and we could ait down 
under a tree outside the gate, and sat them together." 

Tif/T"" J™"*" ^**° ^^^ """' y°" '0"l"i ™in me," said 
Tito, laughing, and kissing both her cheeks. "I ought to 
have been in the Via de' Bardi long ago. Nol I must go back 
Addior ° *" ""'° ^«^^- Tht'rfr-rU take an apricot 

He had already stepped two yard,, from her when he said 
the last word Tessa could not have spoken; she was pale, 
u^dagreat gob was rising; but she turned round as /she 
feltthere was no hope for her, and stepped on, holding her 
apion so forgetfully that the apricots began to i^W out oi the 

Tito could not help looking after her, and seeing her shoul- 
ders rise to tte bursting sob, and the apricots faU-oould not 
help gomg after her and picking them up. It was very hard 
upon him : he was a long way off the Via de' Bardi, and very 
near to Tessa. ^ ^^ 

"See, my silly one," he said, picking up the apricots. 
"Come, We off crying, I will go with yoi^ and wVTrii 
down under the tree. Come, I don't like to see yon ciy; but 
you know I must go back some time. " 

So it came to pass that they found a great plane-tree not fiir 
outside the gates, and they sat down under it, and aU the feast 
was spread out on, Tessa's lap, she leaning with her back 
ag^t the toink of the tree, and he stretched opposite to her, 
restang his elbows on the rough green growth cherished by the 
shade, whUe the sunlight stole through the boughs and played 
about them like a winged thing. Tessa's face was aU content- 
ment ag^ and the taste of the apricots and sweetmeats seemed 
very good. -^^^ou 

;'You pretty birdl" said Tito, looking at her as she sat 

eying the remains of the feast with an evident mental debate 
about savmg them, since he had said he would not have any 



irNDEB Tna planx-trbb. 



117 



™^;ii "J\^ "f "y »"• "^i^g youl Wh«t nn. do 
you tell of at oonfesiion, Tessa? " 

"Oh, a great many. I am often naughty. 1 don't like 
work, and I «m't help being idle, though I know I shil te 
beatai and scolded; and I gire the mules the best fodder when 
nobaiy sees me, and then when the Madre is angrv I sav I 
didn't do iii and that makes me frightened at the^eriT^ I 

2S!^,T, *',!l°^r' T ^^ ■*•'"• I »m not so frightened 
^l2^.^ confession. And see, I've got a £^,6 here 
ttat a good father who came to Prato preaching this Easter 
blessed and gave us aU.» Here Tessa drew from her bosonTa 
tiny bag carefully fastened up. "And I think the holy Ma- 
donna wiU take care of me; she looks a^ if she would; and 
perhaps If I wasn't idle, she wouldn't let me be beaten •' 

If they are so cruel to you, Tessa, shouldn't you like to 
We ttem, and go and live with a beautiful lady who would 
be kmd to you, if she would have you to wait upon her? " 

Tessa seemed to hold her breath for a moment or two 
Then she said doubtfuUy, « I don't know." 

™-^r"^J^^^* ^"?,?*' *" ** "•3' ""'« »«"»"'. "nd live with 
me? said Tito, smilmg. He meant no more than to see what 
sort of pretty look and answer she would give. 

miere was a flush of joy immediately. « Will you take me 
with yon now? Ahl I shouldn't go home and be beaten then." 
She paused a httle while, and then added more doubtfuUy. 
But I should hke to fetch my black-faced kid " 

• ''^'^. yo"?""** 8° ^0^ to yonr kid, my Tessa," said Tita 
nsmg, « and I must go the other way." ^ 

^l^^T!?''." ^* ^^^ ^ ^^ ''«"* '«»n under the shade 
^«:*^/ , T." ??* ; P^**^* *^« °* ^y *» '>lk from here 
to the Via de' Bardij I am more inclined to lie down and sleep 
in this shade." '^ 

It ended so. Tito had an uncnnquerable aversion to any- 
aung unpleasant, even when an object very much loved and 
desir^ was on the other side of it He had risen early • had 
waited; had seen sights, and had been already walking in the 
sun: he was inclined for a siesta, and inclined all the more 
bBMuse httle Tessa was there, and seemed to make the air 
•tfter. He lay down on the grass again, putting hia cap un* 



118 



ROMOLA. 



i / •' . 



der his head on a gieen tuft by the side ex Tessa Th«.f -.. 
not quite comfortable; so he moved again, andTiedSa^ 

m'ZT T^T T'^n'^' '^P'^^^ that wl/hToon 
ttii asleep. TesTa sat quiet as a dove on its nest, iust ven- 

c^K feu wr 'f^^'^P' *» '"""^ *^« wondei^ ^k 
Zt 1 . ^^"""^ fro"* hi» ear. She was too happrto 
go to sleep-too happy to think that Tito would wake up Ld 
that tten he would leave her, and she must go home. It ^es 

IZufY^"^' '?.'""^'' " P*'^'"* P°°l f» a ttay fish, w^^ 
It will find Its world and paradise aU in one, and never lIvH 
presentunent of the dry bank. The fretted summerTad^^d 
stillness^ and the gentle breathing of some lovTufe nea^!"! 
wou^d be paradise to us all. if ea^r thought, the stlg^Te 
wxafte implacable brow, had not long sLe closedX^Ttes 
f),« In / T' " '""^ "^'^^ ^^°^^ *h« '^'Aing oame-C 
and then with a smile, which was soon quenched by • jme nr^ 
occupying thought. Tito's deeper sleep had broken int^Tdor 

rfre^^ft^he^hirr^^tirhLvt^LF' 

J^Z^y, 'Tr' ^°* ^''^^ ''' -« sleep tooU %-^^. 

Addio," he ended, patting her cheek with one hanr^d^tl 
tling his cap with the other. ^ 

She said nothing, but there were signs in her face which 
heli-cormtr^ ^ - -'^°- -"- chidin/Ttot:; 

no^ri^r™^-;^----- 

faced kid, or If you like you may go back to the Jate andle 
the horses start. But I can stay with you no lonee^ ^d i? 
you cry, I shall think you are troublesome to me " ' 
Titlt'!"""^ *^T ''"" "^^^"^ by *«"»' at this change in 
s^le whh JT "^^.^o^y pale, and sat in tremflin^ 
silence, with her blue eyes widened by arrested tears. 

Look now." Tito went on, soothingly, opening the waflet 



tJimXR THE PLANE-THEB 119 

" AhT . f„\'»P- -A-mong them was his onyx rine 

you. CoS undo Sjd » °" ""^ ''"' ' "^ -' -tJ' 
to'Srmelf„cr'*-?'''^''"^^"^8 '"""^ *^»* lif« "as going 

And now you will give me a kiss " HniH Tit„ 

But Tessa had obedientiy put forward hnrl,™ ; 
and kissed his cheek as he^hu'ng downtis fi" " " "'""''"'' 

he waTin%^rfrt/l';\^-^y' -''-^^"^--'i till 
that she was makmg no signs of distress, it was enough Z 



r 



m^^^^^^^^^^mTM 



130 



ROHOLA. 



if 



: ^^-t 



Titoif BhedidnototywUlehewasppMent. The goftness of 
his nature required that all sorrow should be hidden awav 
from hi . •' 

"I wonder when Eomola will kiss my cheek in that way?" 
thought Tito, as he walked along. It seemed a tiresome dis- 
tance now, and he almost wished he had not been so soft- 
hearted, or so tempted to linger in the shade. No other ex- 
cuse was needed to Bardo and Bomola than saying simply that 
he had been unexpectedly hindered: he felt confident their 
proud delicacy would inquire no farther. He lost no time in 
getting to Ognissanti, and hastily taking some food there, he 
crossed the Amo by the Ponte alia Carraja, and made hU way 
as directly as possible toward the Via de' Bardi. 

But it was the hour when all the world who meant to be in 
particularly good time to see the Corso were returning from 
the Borghi, or villages juEt outside the gates, where they had 
dined and reposed themselves; and the thoroughfares leading 
to the bridges were of course the issues toward which the 
stream of sightseers tended. Just as Tito reached the Ponte 
Vecchio and the entrance of the Via de' Bardi, he was sud- 
denly urged back toward the angle of the intersecting streets. 
A company on horseback, coming from the Via Guicoiardini, 
and turning up the Via de' Bardi, had compelled the foot- 
passengers to recede hurriedly. Tito had been walking, as his 
manner was, with the thumb of his right hand resting in his 
belt; and as he was thus forced to pause, and was looking 
carelessly at the passing cavaliers, he felt a veiy thin cold 
hand laid on his. He started round, and saw the Dominican 
friar whose upturned face had so struck him in ihe morning. 
Seen closer, the fape looked more evidently worn by sickness 
and not by age; and again it brought some strong but indefi- 
nite reminiscences to Tito. 

"Pardon me, but— from your face and your ring "—said 
the friar, in a faint voice, " b not your name Tito Melema? " 
"Yes," said Tito, also speaking faintly, doubly jarred by 
the cold touch and the mystery. He was not apprehensive or 
timid through his imagination, but through his sensations and 
perceptions he could easily be made to shrink and turn pale 
like a maiden. 



TITO'S DILEMMA. 121 

;^lien I shall fulfil my oommission." 

mmmm 

on hi, right f^efing^ » " ^"*' ""'' " ''"•^'' '^V' '% 

"r«™.^7T^ ■. '""^^ "w word! were.— 

1 nad It from a man who waa dying " 

' Tou know the contents? " 

feebler, sik doln o^^i itne^r.' ^'"^.'^''°-« feebler and 
I am at San Marco; my name is Fra Luoa." 



CHAPTER XI. 

Tito's dilemma. 



passengers hein^ rUo.ed, Tf^'i'trS st^' 



123 



ROHOLA. 



into the oburoh of Santa Felioit4 that Tito alao wt&t on Ua 
way along the Via de' Bardi. 

"If this monk ii a Florentine," he said to himaelf, "if he 
is going to remain at Florence, everything roust be dis- 
closed." He felt that a new crisis had come, but he was not, 
for all that, too evidently agitated to pay his visit to Bardo, 
and apologize for his previous non-appearance. Tito's talent 
for conoealment was being fast developed into something less 
neutral. It was still possible — perhaps it might be inevitable 
— for him to accept frankly the altered conditions, and avow 
Baldassarre's existence; but hardly without casting an un- 
pleasant light backward on his original reticence as studied 
equivocation in order to avoid the fulfilment of a secretly rec- 
ognized claim, to say nothing of his quiet settlement of him- 
self and investment of his florins, when, it would be clear, 
his benefactor's fate had not been certified. It was at least 
provisionally wise to act as if nothing had happened, and for 
the present he would suspend decisive thought; there was all 
the night for meditation, and no one would know the precise 
moment at which he had received the letter. 

So he entered the room on the second story — where Bomola 
and her father sat among the parchment and the marble, aloof 
from the life of the streets on holidays as well as on common 
days — with a face only a little less bright than usual, from 
regret at appearing so late : a regret which wanted no testi- 
mony, since he had given up the sight of the Corso in order 
to express it; and then set himself to throw extra animation 
into the evening, though all the while his consciousness was 
at work like a machine with complex action, leaving deposits 
quite distinct from the line of talk; and by the time he de- 
scended the stone stairs and issued from the grim door in the 
starlight, his mind had really reached a new stage in its for- 
mation of a purpose. 

And when, the next day, after he was free from his profes- 
sorial work, he turned up the Via del Cocomero toward the 
convent of San Marco, his purpose was fully shaped. He was 
going to ascertain from Fra Luca precisely how much he con- 
jectured of the truth, and on what grounds he conjectured it; 
and, further, how long he was to remain at San Marco. And 



h.^ 



■nrO'S DILEMMA. 123 

once .„^ that on a f aifas ir,tf 1 falw W.t„"' ''^ 
whereabout^ he would unheeitatinXs^rfterhrt'r Jf* 
f, ^h was he bound to go? mL l^okL ^^ , ^"'' »*^ 
the end of aU life h„t t^ « / Ji?^ ^'"^ ** closely, was 
And was not h ^^"tL™ V,^" "*'°°'".''"- of pl^iure? 
bly more pleasm* w T l * ,1 " P""°'"« °* inoompara- 

keen enjoyn^ent, -d Xl* raa'SdTiCed tVl" "^ "' 
ngidity? Thoan Mo-. ^»j ii l stiffened into barren 

orderofthi^gTtwttnT \™V*''''*'*«'''<'P"P«' 
« a mere nid'^r^lrVol ^^^^'1^'^-'" -^l-atZ, 

Imd had his draught of life- Tito^«^^ .."'"' ^ "*"'• 
^ And the prosp^t ^Jtyl^e-^^ft^Zt *"° "'"•. 

2^^::^r:£'peS:;^rtr^^^/^S^ 

pm-andtheroretri^Jl^irs:^' B^ST ^ ^ 
m the narrow sense by which the rieht of ^n ' ^'^^'^'^ = 
mined in ordinary affairs- but in fW ? ^^^""^ « deter- 
cally natural vi^^ by ^^h 1' wc ^ ^iZTf '^"V"' 
sta,ngth, they were rather hi' wh coSiTtrL^th^ '^^ 
pleasure out of thm. That h« »«. extract the most 

sentiment which th° ompiic^i^ pZ oTh ''°"'' Tf- °°* *^« 
engendered in society The ™«n o "^^T*" ***'^8S had 

*at he should i^meLte^ya^tZ"^''"" ^"'1'* "P*"' 
factor's rescue. But what w^^ I « "'"^ *° "^ •^"O" 



' i 

'' ' 

ilia. 



// 



1 1 'i 



m 



ROMOLA. 



tort WM ooBonnad. Not tl»t he oared for the florins nre 
perhapn for Bomola's lake i he would give up the florins rradily 
enough. It was the jojr that was due to him and was close to 
his lips which he felt he was not bound to thrust away from 
him and so tra^." . i, thirsting. Any maxims that required 
a man to fling awr- the good that was needed to make ezUt- 
enoe sweet were only the lining of human selfishness turned 
outward: they were made by men who wanted others to sac- 
nfloe themselTes for their sake. He would rather that Bal- 
dassarre should not suffer: he liked no one to suffer: but 
could any phUraophy prove to him that he was bound to care 
for another's suffering more than for his own? To do so he 
must have loved Baldassarre devotedly, and he did not love 
him: was that his own fault? Gratitude I seen closely, it 
made no valid claim: his fa'"jer'B life would have been dreary 
without him : are we convicted of a debt to men for the pleas- 
ures they give themselves? 

Having once begun to explain away Biadassarre's claim, 
Tito 8 thought showed itself as active as a virulent acid, eat- 
ing its rapid way through all the tissues of sentiment. His 
nund was destitute of that dread which has been erroneously 
decned as if it were notiiing higher than a man's animal care 
for his own skin : that awe of the Divine NemesU which was 
felt by religious pagans, and, though it took a more positive 
form under Christianity, is still felt by the mass of mankind 
simply as a vague fear at anything which is called wiong- 
domg. Such terror of the unseen is so far above mere sensual 
cowardice that it will annitUate that cowardice : it is the in- 
itaal recognition of a moral law restraining desire, and checks 
the hard bold scrutiny of imperfect thought into obUgations 
which can never be proved to have any sanctity in tiie absence 
of feeling. " It is good, " sing the old Eumenides, in ^schy- 
lus, ' that fear should sit as the guardian of tiie soul, forcing 
It mto wisdom— good that men should carry a threatening 
^ow in their hearts under the full sunshine; else, how 
should they learn to revere the right?" That guardianship 
may become needless; but only when aU outward law has be- 
come needless— only when duty and love have united in one 
stream and made a common force. 



THB PRIZB 18 HBARLY ORAflPED. 136 

hrkSrC: *''°'"" *«» cultured and toeptioal for th.t^ 

Sp^urvr:ra"p""'r ^* r. *^« *?>- <^pS.u£. 

dl.n..t!r „ . prorerb, and in erud te familiaritv with 
^^^ «iw» migot M the means of driTing him from Flor- 

whose duU glance impUed no curiosity. ~""»«>"<^ •»« 

Thanks; my business can wait." 

^^ as^^J, '*''"''* ^°"' '»"^' ""y «Pl»nat{on 



*H« 1 .13 NEAXLT OBASPXD. 

hJ™ bff i7J halightstep, forthelmmedlatefear 
M«.mS^te^,L, • loy^'^nes" o' his disposition re- 

devotedness, that patient .... -^^ of r^nT^wf f"*^ 

which he had shrunk and e, • , J, « » ° ^^ "" 

out of love with goodness or t. i • ' ^^ "' ' 

was in KJc t^jT^^' '^ ' ''^8» into ▼!<»: he 

was in his fresh youth, witL » ^r aU ohwin and 



.^p 



128 



BOMOLA. 



.1: 
ft i- ? 

II 



ll 



Sd h^Jf'f P<»~n could only work by deg^^THelS 
«m A ^ to 'vU, but at pr.«,nt lifo «,em«l «, nearly X 
«me to hm, that he wa. not ooomIou. of th. bond. He 
meant aU thing, to go on aa they had done before, 1^ ^ithl 
Md without h.m: hemeuitto win golden opinion/^ in«^ 
^o„. exertion, by ingenlou, learning. byam'ubl.oo^C^: 
he wa. not gomg to do anything that would throw him out of 
~,?/"i ^\^'^«* he c«ed for. And he^ed .u- 
premely for Komolai he wi.hed to have her for hi. beautiful 

the ultimate reach of .uooesirful aooomplidiment. like hi.. 

tat there wa. no woman in all Florence like Bomola. When 

he wa. near him^ and looked at him with her .incere haze" 

f.es, hewa. .ubdued by » deUciou. influence a. .troni and 

mentabea.a.osemu.ical vibration, which ta"e J^^ 

d« '^i ? tfV'l^''' -"Pi" that no «»ner ce^-.'^Zw^ 
desire it to begin again. ^^ 

^^ \*^^ *** "J"'" •*•'"' ^^^ !"• "">» •«" outride the 
tZ:^ °? ""^ u^J^""" "" h™' ^' "fl^^ce »eemed to 
"« w^,^ '^^.°'^ ^y ""> """« "«»"«" t anticipation. 
« Welcome. Tito mio," «iid the old man , .-oice, ^foreTito 
had .poken. There wa. a new vigor in ie voice, a new 
cheerfuhiew ir. the blind face, since that first interview xn^I 

fo^bt r«.'"hnf'' "^' ''°" ^"'•^ ^""8" '"'"• manuscripl* 
doubtlewi but since we were talking last night I have had 
new Idea. : we must take a wider scope-we must go bwk 
upon our footstep.." ^ ' 

..I!!°l^^'°^^"^°°'*«**°^°"'l* "' !"« advanced, went 

^ th^ n"l Tw"' "*',!"«''* *° ^"''°''' "'"'"' "^d P"t h U hand 
m the pain, that was held to receive it, placing hiiiself ou the 
cross-legged leather seat with scrolled ends, close to sLdo^" 

JL^l^"^^^^i^\^^'^ «'*°"* "^y! "I l'a^« brought the 
new manuscript, but that can wait your pleasure. I have 
young limbs, you know, and can walk back up the hiU with- 
out any difficulty." 

QuSwiuTw^'"'^''"'"''* "' '"' ""''1 ^"' '"»» ^' know 
quite weU that her eyes were fiied on him with delight. 



i « 



• T . ■iTT^mal 



THE PRIZK IB NKARLV OHAHPBD. 127 

iiwo in this w«y once or twice of l>ts " a^j t """""w 

lively, and which may never occur again. You mark wh.f 
I am saying, Tito? " *ou mars what 

^r-^s^-eTeS^rz-:,-- 

tLn*'at oZri; '; '" "^-J '"'^ "P ^ *^»' '"^^^ ^d^. 
wSuU t^W r """i""""' ''^^^ ""^ the chief intel- 

se^m e4 ^"'*''''' '"'°''**"'° """ """d^ everything 

on'lfjj'"'^'^'" ^" '""'^' "y"" '''»•' to enlarge your comment. 
on certain passages we have cited " comments 

social study; for I may die too soon to achieve any separate 
ranee that we have to fear, but when there are men Uke TaJ^ 



128 



ROMOLA. 



\n 






^. "^T. »'?""»?'' to a»«» own mistakes. Wherefore, my 
Tito, I thwk It not weU that we should let slip the oooirion 
that lies under our hands. And now we will turn back to the 
point where we have cited the passage from Thucydides, and 
I wish you, by way of preliminary, to go with me through all 
my notes on the Latin translation made by Lorenzo VaUa, for 
which the inoomparable Pope Nicholas V.-with whose per- 

r™?«U tJ"" T^'* "^^^ ^ "■" y"* y°"»8, and when 
he was stall Thomas of Sarzana-paid him (I say not unduly) 
the sum of five hundred gold scudi. But iiJasmich as VaU^ 
though otherwise of dubious fame, is held in high honor ioT 
his severe scholarship, whence the epigrammatist has jocosely 
said of him that since he went among the shades, Pluto him- 
self has not dared to speak in the ancient languages, it is the 
more needful that his name should not be as a^stl^ war"aLt! 

InMf'^ IT' '^^ *?'*"*°™ ^ """'"^ ^^""^ <^ ^r^ 
on rhucydides, wherein my castigations of VaUa's text may 

find a fittmg place. My Eomola, thou wUt reach the needfiU 

^cdumes-thou knowest them-on the fifth shelf of the cab- 

Tito rose at the same moment with Komola, saying, "I wiU 
reach them, if you wUl point them oul^" aid Sed Ter 
hastUy mto the adjoining smaU room where the walls were 
also covered with ranges of books in perfect order. 

There they are," said Eomola, pointing upward; "every 
book IS just where It was when my father ceased to see them." 
Tito stood by her without hastening to reach the books. 
They had never been in this room together before. 

I hope, ' she continued, turning her eyes full on Tito with 
a look of grave confidence-" I hope he will not weary yon: 
tnis work makes him so happy." 

"And me too Eomola^if you will only let me say, I love 
you-if you will only think me worth loving a little » 

His speech was the softest murmur, and the dark beautiful 
face, nearer to hers than it had ever been before, was looking 
at her with beseeching tenderness. 

„u'wt° '"''* ^°"'", """""""d Bo'uola! she looked at him 
with the same simple majesty as ever, but her voice had never 
in her hie before sunk to that murmur. It seemed to them 



THE PRIZE IS NEARLY GRASPED. 



.tS:^rCtp!^„r^,r ''Sc^^^^^^ ^o, an in. 

Tito set his foot o^T^S :■ Ti^ ** lightning after that, 

reached dowft^e'nS S'^TW *" ""L'"?"'^" ^^ 
to be silent and separate for t w « T !7. ''*" '""' contented 

"You have the volumes, mv Romola? » f),» u 
aa they came near him ag«in ^d nn„ ^•,?'^ ""'^ 
pen ready; for, as TitoXts offTiT TT- ^°" ""^^ ««* ^"^ 
extracting it wiU be weU f^ ?5 f '°^°^* '" determine on 
-numbefLg Zn cSv Zi H° °.°^^ '*''" "•*^°"* <!«% 
numbers in L ZT^t :^irit "'™''^°' ''*" ""« 

both'wrote^d Jd an^2'^ll™A""';!'^««*°' '^''«" ''^ 
front of him, wh^e sh^ w« ^^ ''"'*" " » *»"« Jn^t in 
hands anySnlS; he 3!1<T^ *° '^"•' ^'^ '"'' other's 
of a volu3tt ht IS Jrr %^J-^ » "«e- him 
that position since the work bS v^ on ?v ^"'?'' '^''° ^ 
new; it was so differentVow Kem tot. "^ '* '"^""^ 
other; so different for Tito tTtake a W^. °^i^"^ '^^ 
lifted it from her father's knee Yet ^ " ^*'' "" "''« 

^.oia-s zrJ^z^^LXz:.'r^ ii^- -; 

siting because of the fadiTgUghtwLArd ""'' ^"^' *^''- 
there entered a figure stranLw ,•„! door opened, and 



I 



il 



/] 







130 



BOMOLA. 



cap, embroidered with pearls, under which surprisingly mai- 
sive black braids surmounted the little bulging forehead, and 
fell in rich plaited curves over the ears, while an equally sur- 
prising carmine tint on the upper region of the fat cheeks 
contrasted with the surrounding sallowness. Three rows of 
peails and a lower necklace of gold reposed on the horizontal 
cushion of her neck; the embroidered border of her trailing 
black velvet gown and her embroidered long-drooping sleeves of 
rose-colored damask, were slightly faded, but they conveyed to 
the mitiated eye the satisfactory assurance that they were the 
splendid result of six months' labor by a skilled workman, and 
the rose-colored petticoat, with its dimmed white fringe and 
seed-pearl arabesques, was duly exhibited in order to suggest a 
smiilar pleasing reflection. A handsome coral rosary hung 
from one side of an inferential belt, which emerged into cer- 
tainty with a large clasp of sUver wrought in nieUo: and on 
the other side, where the belt again became inferential, hung 
a scarsella, or large purse, of crimson velvet, stitched with 
pearls. Her little fat right hand, which looked as if it had 
been made of paste, and had risen out of shape under partial 
baking, held a small book of devotions, also splendid with 
velvet, pearls, and silver. 

The figure was already too familiar to Tito to be startling 
for Monna Brigida was a frequent visitor at Bardo's, being 
excepted from the sentence of banishment passed on feminine 
triviality, on the ground of her cousinship to his dead wife 
and her early care for Eomola, who now looked i ound at her 
with an affectionate smile, and rose to draw the leather seat 
to a due distance from her father's chair, that the coming gush 
of talk might not be too near his ear. 

"Laeugina?'' said Bardo, interrogatively, detecting the 
short steps and the sweeping drapery. 

"Yes, it is your cousin," said Monna Brigida, in an alert; 
voice, raising her fingers smilingly at Tito, and then liftina 
up her face to be kissed by Romola. "Always the trouble- 
some oousm breaking in on your wisdom," she went on, seating 
herself and beginning to fan herself with the white veil hang- 
ing over her arm. " Well, well; if I didn't bring you some 
news of the worid now and then, I do beUeve yon' d forget there 



THE PBIZB IS KlJ4RI,y QR^gpi^, jgj 

"^Ki u 1 m not as wise as the three kin™ T t« >. 

totCl' f. f "^ '■^'^ °* FraQirolamo's making C 
to think of two families like the Albizzi and tha *„„■ • i- H. 

r^LT Y 7 "'^**'^ °"^''"' «>«? «°"Id do no oUier see 
mg my husband was Luca Antonio's uncle bv th«T^!^'.. f 

E. ,"„"s:':f Si* -r? "ir* *™«°'«^*' 



132 



ROMOLA. 



11. ■ 



had nothmg to do now but to buy their coffin., and think it 
a thouaand years till they get into them, insteid of enjoying 
toemselves a little when they've got their hands free fir the 
first time. And what do you think was the music we had. to 
make our dinner lively? A long discourse from Fra Domwico 
of San Marco, about the doctrines of their blessed Fra Girolamo 
™»rwl^?K '*<"'^«»J« "8 aU to get by heart; and he kept 

aud the first 1^ Florence, or the Church_I don't know whiX 
for first he said one and then the other-shall be scourged- 
but If he means the pestUence, the Signory ought to put a 
stop to such preaching, for it's enough to raise the swelling 

Korence is to be regenerated; but what will be the good of 

^nlTKrii^i**"*^ °^ *^" P'-'K"*' " somethinrelse? 
,V. iff°'vl " ^"\^^«' »°'i 'i»t ^0 said oftenest. is, that 
It s all to be in our days: and he marked that off on his thumb 
till he made me tremble like the very jelly before me. They 
had jellies, to be sure, with the arms of the Albizzi and the 
Acciajoh raised on them in all colors; they've not turned the 
world quite upside down yet. But aU their talk is, that we 
are to go back to the old ways : for up starts Francei,o Valori! 
that I've danced with in the Via Larga when he was a bach- 
elor Mid as fond of the Medici as anybody, and he makes a 
s^ch about the old times, before tJie Florentines had left 
off c^g Popolo ' and begun to cry ' PaUe '-as ii that had 
anything to do with a weddingl-and how we ought to keep to 
the rules the Signory laid down Heaven knows when, ttat 
we were not to w*ar this and that, and not to eat thi^ and 
that-and how our manners were corrupted and we read bad 

books; though he can't say that of me " 

"Stop, cousin 1» said Bardo, in his imperious tone, for he 
had a remark to make, and only desperate measures could 
arrest the ratting lengthiness of Monna Brigida's discourse 
But now she gave a little start, pursed up her mouth, and 
looked at hun with round eyes. 

« " ^'*"°^'? y*'"" " "ot altogether wrong, » Bardo went on. 

Bernardo, indeed, rates him not highly, and is rather of 

opinion that he christens private grudges by the name of pub- 



THB PRIZE IS NIARLY GRASPED. 133 

SrS'&l'S^;* "*??'* Aatmygood Bernardo i. too 
S.^1 L , * ** unalloyed patriotism which was found 

m aU ita luetre amongst the ancients. But it is tru^ tT 

wr ""rr ^T •^-e*'-™*''! •""'ewhat from Z nobk 
frngahty which, as has been well seen in the pubUc acta of 
our citizens ia the parent of true magnificence For men 
M I hear wiU now spend on the transient show of a «i™t~ 
J^s which would suffice to found a librar?. a^d oonf™ '^ 
lastmg possession on mankind. Still I onn«Bi« if " 

Tbril" ^Tlr '^"^ - •-- ml ofZtTa^^r^: 
Mbnety which abhors a trivial lavishness that if maTbe 
grandly open-handed on grand occasious, than can be foZl i! 
any other city of Italy, for I understand thatXe NelS 
andMilanese courtiers laugh at the scarcity of our plate Imd 

^y^^m °^-°"' ^^' *'™"'«" f» bonowinTfrot'e^h 

other that furniture of the table at their entertainmente But 

m the vam laughter of folly wisdom hears half its appW " 

Laughter, indeedl " burst forth Monna Brigida ag^^ tie 

W Sif*^^^"? "-^ ^«»PP°i"ted, for when j^u5 
STl^l^^^H- ' wt *? °"^'' * ^"^"^ "^^ *°W stories ou! 
to m^r ^f^^^^'' """k, how it was no use for the Signoria 
to make rules for us women, because we were cleverer th^ 
aU the pamters, and architects, and doctors of logirinlS 
world, for we could make black look white, and yeUow look 

d?;f c^rdlnf' "*'"«'*' '^^ " '-^•'-« ' -""i^ 
oen, we could find a new name for it-Holy Vireinl the 

Saoohetti's book was wicked. Well, I don't read it^^^v 
Wt accuse me of reading anything. Save me Zi ^^Z 
a weddmg again, if that's to be the fashion; for all ofTwho 
were not Piagnoni were as comfortable as wet ohickZ I 
was never ca.-ght in a worse trap but once before an^;^^ 

hi , ri ' ^'*''*' "y "°°<i ^'•e'' I tJ>i"k of it. How 

lump, of flesh, and wantons, and mischief-makers-and I 



IM 



BOKOLA. 



shook the very Lch ™Jr, » ??'^ "'"' ""^ ^'"^ "« ^«<* 

the dreams I had after thftf I a«j ti, "'" """^ ^»">- Oh, 
his hands at uTaTl S t^^ i'd . ' "'1^' '^'^ '^f 
take off my jewels thiB v!t ^' ^.*° «° ^'"°«' «"<i <» 

makethem^itra'SetTJif"^' ■^•^.^'ything, and to 

of sending them to'^^eGoS£o7'st"^l"T'*^'''^ 
poor, but, by Heaven's m^v I beluthf ,*° ^'^ *" *^' 
my confessor. Fra CrisSf afSl^T 1^11"* *° 
how It was aU the work of fhJ^ T^t'- "® *°^'* ™* 
prophesying of theVS tiSL^rl^thr^'"^ ""^ 
were trying to turn the world^^e'do^n ^d f^T!:"^' 
to go and hear him again else I m„.f ^7 ' ^T" °*'" 
the great preachers W™^- . ^° penanee for it; for 

how^ra Sr p«'rs!ld™th'?"'"'^'"'°'"' 
I heard them both in the Duoiiir^l f^t "^ '^*' *»' 
dream of San Frances! p^pX V"e Chll'" -^"^^^ 
arms was being fuMIled stUI »nH f ^ rf • ■ ''"* ^" 
ginning to puU it down. We^l l5°T'*'"l'' ""^ '^■ 
JDio, and made myself easy I am ? ' ^ ''™* "^"^ <»» 
by a Prate Predic^.to™ a^in tdX'fa*" t'"'^*''"^ 
hadn't been the I^minicrs tw^ tJ- "^ "' ^ '"'» ** 
for then I shonldTve S«M Zn ^^ '°^^. ^^ •8°' 
was come back—I" * ^*° ^ ''*"«' ^^^ ^J he 

looked ro^d^Kto"^ f/'t'^i "^'^^^ ""'' '''^'^' "^^ 
HonnaBrigidagave^lll^tlLTeL:'^^^^?' *° ^• 

Night, acOTTuption of EpifexLiL windows on Twolftli 



*H1 PRIZB IS H^^y ORA8PE1X 13B 

"DooMl" said Baido. wain. "J,«. 

Ufa. -Civr^xf th?^^rnrr ^^*° -^^ 

then, as he had aup^f." j,f"'^°'"^°''«»ot really dead. 

Bon^ola that had m^^re' a^lrJtL^r**'' *° ^"^0 and 
he were only dead at FiesoIrL ?w """^ *° ''^- « 

ttmate selfish wish Inevi^w *f ' momenti This impar- 

a^ought. U was true tLtt Cot S' "T/"" "''^ '^^ 
safeguard against anylLc^rh^f ""l""" " ''"*^"«°* 
brother; but «<,« ^gL^^T^ ^"T ^°™''' «n<i !>« 
others, especially wW^e „^'.'"y,^ °* ''l'»* he knew to 

coupling o?^oJlaWmf:ithttom '"""^'r^f^ "^ "^^ 
whose description he hadoarr -h f 5^ ''"'^ ^•'° ^elema 

Nol nothing but iVaLuoaTdrl.i''' °'* "^ "^ ^^«- 
but Ilia deato was WgUy'^u!?^ could remove all danger, 

come aid sit^le hel ■^'^ "'^ "" """^ *°-"'«l'*- Tito, 

thSJTi^rsst-^rweu. 

and let her arTrest oITw Z ^^l ^'"*" °° "^ 1°' "*«" 

u. his h.d o^ Kr^^r::: a -5^^^* '- -«^' 

T»m neve, told you that I had one. a t?«.id Bardc, 




186 



ROKOLA. 



:^> -, 



I , '' 



forgetting what had fallen from him in the emotion raised by 
their firgt interview. The old man had been deeply shaken, 
and was forced to pour out his feelings in spite of pride. 
" But he left me— he is dead to me. I have disowned him for- 
ever. He was a ready scholar as you are, but more fervid 
and impatient, and yet sometimes rapt and self-absorbed like 
a flame fed by some fitful source j showing a disposition from 
the very first to turn away his oyes from the clear lighU of 
reason and philosophy, and to prostrate himself under the in- 
fiuences of a dim mysticism which eludes all rules of human 
duty as it eludes all argument And so it ended. We will 
speak no more of him: he is dead to me. I wish hU face 
could be blotted from that world of memory in which the dis- 
tant seems to grow clearer and the near to fade." 

^do paused, but neither Bomola nor Tito dared to speak 
—his voice was too tremulous, the poise of his feelings too 
doubtful. But he presently raised his hand and found Tito's 
shoulder to rest it on, while he went on speaking, with an 
effort to be calmer. 

" But you have oome to me, Tito— not quite too late. 1 
wm lose no time in vain regret. When you are working by 
my side I seem to have found a son again." 

The old man, preoccupied with the governing interest of his 
life, was only thinking of the much-meditated book which had 
quite thrust into the background the suggestion, raised by 
Bernardo del Nero's warning, of a possible marriage between 
Txto and Bomola. But Tito could not aUow the moment to 
pass unused. 

" wm you let iue be always and altogether your sou ? Will 
you let me take care of Eomola— be her husband? I think 
she wiU not deny me. She has said she loves me. I know I 
am not equal to her in birth— in anything; but I am no longer 
a destitute stranger." 

"Is it true, my Bomola?" said Bardo, in a lower tone, an 
evident vibration passing through him and dissipating the sad- 
dened aspect of his features. 

" Yes, father," said Bomola, firmly. " I love Tito— I wish 
to marry him, that we may both be your children and never 
part" 



rBBVBIZRlB MUHLY GRASPED. 



her father. *^'' ""* *"«"' *y« »«e fixed Mxioaely on 

" Why ehonld It not be? » .ud B.~i-. 
"7 oppoeition to hi. .went JT^V *'»«*"« •gain.t 
would be •hapDine.Ttn!!!^ Z*^" "'»» aeeenting/ "it 

other We than^te And thT*,.*^' """" »««<»«" -ome 
»*rdo think, I .Tai hwSv fin^ .' *? ' ""'"' '""• »«! 
And he is perhaps right /„5°i * ^'^^^ «*«"« for thee. 

%«x: thouar'tsuohawoi*L°1tf °°* "^^ *^« ^""l^' 
';-ion of when they sang ZTS^T, ^fT'T'^ ^^ ^"^ • 

bght in the year, of my blindn^. a ^ ""**'"^ °' ^J" 

bun?" ' ""none... ... And so thou lorest 

•«ne'to"e « wtte.'^hf ^v' ^"*«' ,•"<» ^ ""d. i" th. 
itj I wili talk with BeSo^' '* °°* **' I wiU think of 

^ '^er':^ey«t?",?^t?th"* «r '-''-' '<" ^-^do 
ttey looked at bi^ld Sll«" ^"^ T P'"°» ''J'«^« 
oon^rted all unoerL^ Jt to^^"^ remembrance of F™ Luc. 

to me before that I have whhfft! J°*"'8 ^^ "^^ "ome 
.t possible that I ooulT Je t'^„*°' "*^°°«Jy ' I <Ud not think 
happen to myself. " °""* ^^ anything that could 

;4"o?Bomorf's'1elfS^^^^^^^ t^^" condensed 

had thrown aU its pisijn bto/ "/k""" ^°'^« ^'^'>' ''Woh 
•««d ambition, aged pride ^aiT^'J"^ "'^^ "^'^ ""^ws, 



.( 



i 



tS8 



ROMOLA. 



hMrt met Uto't MitrMty at iu very flnt nttert^ee. Niver- 
tobeob«.pyed. For we mu . not »ot in h«te, or Jo Mythin, 

W.l» ^^'r'""''""^-"'' I ""V consider my«r. 
Wrth^..^r^ ^ ■?"" »•''•'*''•>''« "member that Juevon, 
2^f}^ "^ °Wig»tion.. And I would not be reproafhed by 
myfenow-c,t.a,n,forr..h haste in bestowing my daughtj 
B^lomm.0 Seal, gave his Ale.«u.dra to the Greek MaX 

no e^^ ™ '"JT '^ '•" ■"""""' ">'» ^'^ "'""""' i» o 
tiJ. r °n u""' ^*"'"'^» "•" •"»''» '•">* ^0 must take 
»r V. « :'"'P'' '•?«»''»» me with wa"; of due fore- 
thought. Be patient, my children : you are very -roung. » 

«^fi.T"r^'* ^."/'^ ""* ^'"°'»''' ^""t "W perfectly 
wbsaed. Not SOT to'.. If the subtle mixture of ^d «,d 
evil prepares :suilenng for human truth and purity, ttere i. 
^ ZT^" ^''T^- ^°' "" ''"'"g-doer b/the sLne min 
?!t^r Z^"'"- -^^ ^"° ^'"^ ^°'"°'» °° """^ Parting that 
Z^^Ii.f" ^'"^ 'v™"f ■" °' ^^ *»""" *^'" ""o^ed his whole 
possible to l«„k of ..anything but the neoessaiy oonsequen<i 
of her noble nature, loved hin, with aU the teudemei oZ 

W H ^°v """?* '™''"" '™« ^"^ «"» fi"t deceit wh^ch 
her. There was ^ spring o* bitterness mingling with that 

nThtedlt^ZTd: ^°^^ "^'' "^'^ ^ ^'^^ «-* "' 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THB SHADOW OF KEUSSIS. 

,n„~ T *^f '""^ »fte™oon time on the seventh of September, 
Tito had confessed their love to each other. 



TBS SHADOW 0» WWOWia 



Inf •PlwwmUy carried with ita » "** *^' "'^^ *>•"• 
Which Uy wi^ iu l^Tv,, 'c„^', " ""r7rt olmn, of y,„^ 
Plving . game .t ««« '^^ ^..*. ""' ". «' S«>dn,, 

"ply of hi, left flag,,, Jt, 
right with «.I.n,a.eyed iaterc 

•nd bMdiog 0T« the '»rber, to 
ha Mag, 

"Qu»nf»bell., ,,in„, , 

Cb«.i fujgr .aUTla 

Chi Tiiolew, r jiatoai 

"i doman nan o'A o«r»«„«. 



; «Kl w^,. . log th, ,j^^ 
««un»tic»l d awd* of hi» 

■to 8i .ubed ipthelat^ 
the SI Mngi It^iujr ^jjj. 



f he a.0 wu off hi» 

* w^ my sieeta on 

«<»ng to sleep in 

F«!nt ^oesy. Hear 

•1 by the initial 

"ad symptoms : I 

understanding i« 

•p, and I shall be left 

ike many another in- 

What ih It, my Or- 



.y^t J "f •""^ "•*«' - • bird 
eye. in an matant, and he .tar .«i up 

ttishotday, itseem^ m com,,. 

letter, lUe a Trovatore? That is o. 
«m eorely afraid that the good win. o, 

•a empty cask with an odor of drei«. 

curls, and drew them out playfuUy " Ww ^'T"^ ^""'» 
of yourweU-tamed NeUo? ForF^rcil '"y"" ""» 
that soft strain of yours lJ tr It * """'"K «°>""1 i-- 
ofyour desire, as the TbW LT "^ V^" """^ ''^^"'o eye 
" That is m" Ss ir^f '"'^''' *''"' ^ """y ^^-^l i' " 
Tit. stiH letting his ^^.^'^^SZ^XX 

"■Beauteottsl.lifeinbloMomi 
Afld It fleeteth -_ fleeteth ever ■ 

Wlow would fce joyful -let him I 
"O^m's no surety for the morrow '• 

- Carnival Song by Lnmm de' lltHeL 



J 



'4.' 
k ■ ■ 

I ! 



ir 



i(i I 



I 



M 



i4» 



BOHOLA. 



ft. itriogi. « Bat you h,T. dlrined th« mm of mr rf^ 
tioMf taprtiMoe to M. you, .ye. ppw.. T^t youtol^ 
m. ^ .xtr, touch 0/ your «t-notTmy oh^ n^ ^t*^^ 

«>• lUn, and itir* th. mimU ipirito .mMblr n Ih.t «!S^ 
«.d . Ittl, of you, »o.t d.lJto or^ST^nt wotld nS'Si 

*Mpi at hiB beck to slip through .mall h , 13 for hi™ v!!i 

?o«fi::sr~Th "I"??' '"•* -/-^''-Vtk.x^rthyo: 
SXto .w~^ru.rj:^-M'r zr tr^^^^^^ 

nounc«l you ).u of an «m than^oht^h ' ,^ ' ^ P"" 

rs^i-r-^^^^^i^rst^ry^ 

^o^ntine^^holars put together. ItmSf^.w"r vir?:.^ 
th.m to o^r m. up now, when Poliziano i. b.at.n do,^" iiSi 

if 1? w °°* T*f*^°* y"" °'<^««'7 ^'>«>. if you will have 
U soi but you don't expect u. clever ^Florentine, to Cpw! 
ing the »me things over again every d^^ of our Hver «, J. 
m^ do If we always told th. truth, ^e <S down I^^ 
•nd w. ory up Fr«.o.sco Cei, just for the «A.7f v^i^t^ 



THl 8HADOW OF NMJMIS. 



And «w you not a MttTrn nf Ti. . "' " " '"'»'>« ^.Te b^a 
your .". doubttw^ILn.! '^•■'° '!"'• "'"k-d city? ^ 
l«r. you from th, v" d'^S^ilTJ"'*""""' "■•' "»»" 
to utoniah pcterity?" ' ^ **" «"" '"'k which ii 

tnilr^i!';^;^':!;^" 't Win ""'-"^ "'on-h « 

pUn of it » ^ irapoMibility of .wiog what wm the 

WMoneof thoM scholar, who 1?, ^IV*^' «"''"«'* Bardo 
i"g, like oavalicra iu Zry^i^ °7^'°'^ '" ""'' '««- 
they Me OTer-ridd.ni^lir°JS,^^"''u*f *•"«''' "*««•»• 
waa not a herb out of hiToi™ « !?^ ^""^ " '"'»• *<> mei 
l-» on. with an emJ^ZT^'J^'"' '"'"•■'• ''•"•^- 
expectation by long dSeoQiT^ ^P^ °°* "ith vain 
Eeco. you a^ ^^^^7^, ""^ Cr "toforo i, th. y^ 

Iway. to be fed on leL^g 'h? I ITl ^"' '°^» ^ -"^ 
»««« for the betrotW tofo4 lL» ^^ '"'"' *" «•«"» "^e 
"PerhaiM," «ud ^!: °^. ""S-" >' "ot true? » 

.houldnex^rec^ii^Ba^ottlr"". ^"'"' B*™-^- 
lion and a wUd boar to tK o/T7 '""V.""^'^ y°" » 
n>y Alcti.. But I conftLT. ? ^' ^.~«» l^fore I can win 
thy of Eomola, l^iT^Z^! 1?^' ^ '""'*^» "^ """o" 
teg any mortal." """ ""^ 8"» dim by many- 

i.to2r'toTarm1::li''^-,S?7^t place there. T,t 
that wa, left empty r^oldm."*^ ^"" *°' t''* "i«he 
-on^, wa, tenU ^e^^lrat'r'i.^^Sr- 

the^-rb:Stt"a:tt\^rr^«^ ?r ^^ ~- ^- 

diately atooped to pick nn thTf n ^ Perceptible, for he imme- 

ger Wtteninr^ere^'SeKair"-"' hi, fin- 

ome'^^itoTan-lcS?' ^ '''-^^t- ^" ^o— he i. 

"Cronaciamyauthority.'.«udNello.withaahmg. «I 



PI 



143 



ROMOLA. 



i> 



im t frequent that sanctuary, but he does. Ah, " he added, 
taking the book from Tito's hands, "my poor NeLeia dTC- 
berinol It jars yonr scholarly feelings to see the pages dog's- 
eared. I was lulled to sleep by the weU-rhymed larms of 
that rustic maiden-' prettier than the turnip-flower ' ' with a 
oheek^more savory than cheese.' But to get such a weU- 
scented no'>on of the contadina one must lie on yelvet cush- 
ions in the Via Larga-not go to look at the Fierucoloni 

sSn"''" ^"^ "*"" ''"°"''"' '^" "^""^K ^^ 

- «^°^£!*^ T^° "* *** Fierucoloni?" said Tito, indiffer- 
ently, settling his cap. 

"The contadine who come from the mountains of Pistoia, 
and the Casentmo, and Heaven knows where, to keep th2 
vigil m the church of the Nunziata, and seU their yarn and 
dried mushrooms at the Fierucola, ' as we call it. They make 

f^^r^'^"'"' ^'^ ^^^" P*P*' ^*°'«"«' ^°^^^S their hymns 
^ !i 1"'^ °V^J^ "^V^ ''^' nativity-if you had the leisure 
to see them No?-weU, I have had enough of it myself, for 
there is wild work in the Piazza. One may happen to get a 
stone or two about one's ears or shins without asking for it 
and I was never fond of that pressing attention. Addio " 

Tito carried a little uneasiness with him on his visit, which 
ended ^her than he had expected, the boy-cardinal Giovanni 
de Medici, youngest of red-hatted fathers, who has since 
presented his broad dark cheek very conspicuously to posterity 

pastime of the chase, and having failed to appear. It still 
wanted half an hour of sunset as he left the door of the Seala 
vt H '. Z A- u" '^'*°"°" °* proceeding forthwith to the 
llf\ ^"-^'i ''"* }o ^'^ "ot gone far when, to his astonish- 
ment, he saw Eomola advancing toward him along the Borgo 

She wore a thick black veil aad black mantle, but it was 
impossible to mistake her figure and her walk; and by her 
Side wa^a short stout form, which he recognized as that of 
Monna Bripda, ra spite of the unusual plainness of her attire. 
Eomola had not been bred up to devotional observance, and 
' The Little Fair. 



THE SHADOW OP NEMESIS. 148 

the oooasions on which she took the air ->7=— ,v 

waLSni s're."'^« '''^^''"''^^" -^ ^■'O' *""-« to 
J^he_did not answer at the first moment, and Monna Brigid. 

hZt^' f T' ^'*°' ^°" ^° '^o" *° t»™ round, for we are in 
Iwste. And is it not a misfortune?- we are owZ^ T 

Si^. t'£rtr "^ ^^'^^^ ^^1 M^no ire!? 

MO rair, lor the contadme eominir in block nn ti,<. „ u 

s: fc^*^ '"'''^ -"""^ ^- '^■'^ usttrsrLt M 

« Kmot^ h^Ilrd.^'.'*' •T""'*' '^'J '^Ban to beat violently. 
MarS?^' ""'' "" "^"^ *"'"'' ""^yo" going to sL 

eifS:^^^^-^:,----^^ 

allwasquiet. Bomola put aside her yeU for ttesailfTifh 

eyes '' Jor thT/ fn '"1' '""^^^ ^^^at him wTth^i 
my father It llf ^"* ^r *^°'°« ^'"^^^"g unknown to 



144 



ROHOLA. 






I.-- V ,r 



O 



tekeu to the monastery at Fiesole, because he was Ul But 

r^ d. tT"^ '""' y°" '"^ *^^ I >>a^e chosen riehtl7 
Tito, because I have noticed that your nature is 1™^,^/^^^' 

n^^j;^:£=hl7-L5::i^^^^^^^ 

S^""' Breates^e^en you, Tito, would find it wt 

teiSList'srsLhrrs^^^^^ 

inth!:ki:7t^t'eu"SS:T^' ^°"- "^-ys right, except 

Tif^'^r^vT ""'i^ '°°"' ^'""^•'"eM in those last words and 
Tito looked very h^utiful as he uttered them, withZunusTd 
pallor in his face, and a slight quiverinB of his li^ "" "™»"«1 

SS*^/ f ,«"-«' 1« A like a^lid p Xs^rwIS 
high beliefs, h^ a tearful brightness in her eyes^s she loled 
at him touched with keen joy that he felt so stLgW what 

I shaU be less noticed if we enter the pia^ alone." 



THE SHADOW OP NEMB8I8. 



„_ -""°- 148 

we what there is under ZZiTtorlZl^' "^^ "'"' ^'«'» *^ 
W8 liie a prooeesion. Not that t finH r'^.f'" ^"^ °^ '^'J'" 
onlj it doesn't suit my steL A f ^ '^*"'* '"'^ ^" for it, 
not have us seen goin J to San m' ""J««<i. I ^ould rather 
d««ed as if I were one of Z ^''°' '^^ *^*'''' ''^y I al 
old as Sant' AnnaTforift fj ^°"' themselves, Ld m 
who ought to be forSven wte's^" """^^^ ^"* ^' ^o, 
having a grudge against deilXt^'^et.''''^ f' """ "^ 
they live, say I » P^opier— make them feel while 

^^^P^llS'Z.^^^^SV'r? Brigida, and 
"I understand, I obey you." now ta^l ' \'?'' "^^ ""^d, 
-a sign of reverence «retya°dT S ^''"^lifti'^g his ca^ 
entmes, and which excited BernLl^^ x?" ^^ "**''« ^'or- 
Tito as afawning GreekwhTl!Tp ''*',' ^'"''' '»'"«'»Pt for 
it |ave him an ef ceptiotj ^l^e """^ ^'"' '""^-^ J""^. 

BomXtoSSfmomtntttv 1!' ^" ''"P"""' '° «li°8 to 
out suspicion. Por^He^e^ I v "^^ '""" ^"^^ ^i"' wrth^ 
would before all thml 7^1 . '^^ *»' "»'» brother 
before all things cTfide to him wh°T' '^\'^' ^°"""« would 
a»d her own after the yeL whicltul^ ^^^ father's position 
change. She would tell hhn tta^shr *^* ''^"8''* «° '"""h 
betrothed to a young schoC, who wLrjr ^."^ I'"^"'"^ 
vacant long ago by a wanderC son h« f "^ ' ^'^^ ^'^ 
tliat would prompt Eomola to dwellon t w""" '•■" ^P-^^* 
would follow on the mentio^ oT Ir^ ^ PrP'"*" "^-i what 
IVaLuca would tell all he k °ew an^l!*"'! ^"'•^'^'^ °ame. 
no possible falsity by which h» ""f "°°J««tured, and Tito saw 
consequences of i^tltt '12"°" "'^' °*^ *^« """t 
with his prospects in F^r^nce Thi °°- ^* ^^ »" over 
del Nero, who would be de ighjj'r T- ''''^' ^«""<^° 
wiadom of his advice about deS 1 W^'V?'™*'^ *^« 
character and position had been^f=w u . ?'^*' ""*'^ Tito's 
fence; and thVhistory of tt vo^i'p '^ ^^ ^ ^o-^^ resi- 
Wactorwas in slavery, wo^lfflhf ^^J ^r^nS- 



146 



ROUOLA. 



gia. For the first time in his life he felt too fevered and agi- 
teted to trust his power of self-command; he gave up his in- 
tended visit to Bardo, and walked up and down under the 
walls until the yellow light in the west had quite faded, when 
without any distinct purpose, he took the first turning, which 
happened to be the Via San Sebastiano, leading him directly 
toward the Piazza dell' Annunziata. 

He was at one of those lawless moments which eome to ua 
aU if we have no guide but desire, and if the pathway where 
desire leads us seems suddenly closed; he was ready to foUow 
any beckoning that offered him an immediate purpose 



CHAPTER XIV. 

THB PEAS Aires' FAIB. 

The moving crowd and the strange mixture of noises that 
burst on him at the entrance of the piazza reminded Tito of 
what Nello had said to him about the Fierucoloni, and he 
pushed his way into the crowd with a sort of pleasure in the 
hooting and elbowing, which filled the empty moments, and 
dulled that calculation of the future which had so new a drea- 
riness for him, as he foresaw himself wandering away solitary 
in pursuit of some unknown fortune, that his thought had even 
glanced toward going in search of Baldassarre after all. 

At each of the opposite inlets he saw people struggling into 
the piazza, while above them paper lanterns, held aloft on 
sticks, were waving uncertainly to and fro. A rude monoto- 
nous chant made a distinctly traceable strand of noise, across 
which screams, whistles, gibing chants in piping boyish voices 
the beatmg of drums, and the ringing of little bells, met each 
other m confused din. Every now and then one of the dim 
fioating lights disappeared with a smash from a stone launched 
more or less vaguely in pursuit of mischief, followed by a 
scream and renewed shouts. But on the outskirts of the 
whirling „amult there were groups who were keeping this vigil 
of the Nativity of the Virgin in a more methodical manner 



wmM w 



THB PEASANTS' FAIK. J«f 

awn by fitful stone-throwing and Bibine r«rt.i «. j 

ures on stilts, who KathedS™ 7 ""f ^-'ading fig- 

-^^SaS-HHB^'^Sats 

back firmly plaS'.Tini??''*^'^'"!'"' * ''""'. '^itt bis 
the Founding Hospi^sllfi^vV''* '°S8'* '" f™"* »* 

away-worn ancestry returnSgfromatiW '^ ^'°^''' ^^* 
they had set out aTentur^ a^ Just M nTwf r J'^'^^ 
sc^t-feeding peasant-woS;n^ron.the ^0,^^70? RsS 
who were entering with a vear's lalv^r ;« » ""i^ub oi ristoia, 
yam on their backs, and i^ li tL^ Jt r*" ^°''' °' 
good and that wide dim fear of harr^ „K ^ *^* ''°P« "* 
be cared for bv the rL«?v ' ^^'"^ """^^ somehow to 

lusacuaintance Bratti, who sto^tllt^^^S- 



I' I 






148 



BOUOLA. 






I 
t 

I' ( 
I 



Ur, and his mouth punwd np in disdainful sUonoe^ eying eyeiy 
one who approached him with a cold glance of superiority, and 
keeping his hand fist on a serge covering which nonoealed the 
contents of the basket slung before him. Eather surprised 
at a deportment so unusual in an anxious trader, Tito went 
nearer and saw two women go up to Bratti's basket with a look 
of curiosity, whereupon the peUler drew the covering tighter, 
and looked another way. It was quite too provoking, and one 
of the women was fain to ask what there was in his basket. 

" Before I answer that. Monna, I must know whether yoa 
mean to buy. I can't show such wares as mine in this fair for 
every fly to settle on and pay nothing. My goods are a little 
too choice for that Besides, I've only two left, and I've no 
mind to seU them; for with the chances of the pestUenoe that 
wise men talk of, there is likelihood of their being worth their 
weight in gold. TXo, m: andate con Dio." 

The two women looked at each other. 

"And what may be the price?" said the second. 

"Not within what you are likely to have in your purse, 
buona donna," said Bratti, in a compassionately supercilious 
tone. "I recommend you to trust in Measer Domeneddio and 
the saints : poor people can do no better for themselves." 

"Not so poor I " said the second woman, indignantly, draw- 
ing out her money-bag. " Come, now 1 what do you say to a 
grosso? " 

"I say you may get twenty-one quattrini for it, " said Bratti, 
coolly J "but not of me, for I haven't got that small change." 

"Come J two, then?" said the woman, getting exaaperated, 
while her companion looked at her with some envy. " It will 
iardly be above two^ I think." 

After further bidding, and further meroantUe coquetry, 
Bratti put on an air of concession. 

Since you've set your mind on it, " he said, slowly raising 
the cover, " I should be loath to do you a mischief; for Maes- 
tro Gabbadeo used to say, when a woman sets her mind on a 
thing and doesn't get it, she's in worse danger of the pesti- 
lence than before. Ecco 1 I have but two left ; and let me tell 
you, the fellow to them is on the finger of Maestro Gabbadeo, 
who is gone to Bologna— as wise a doctor as aits at any door." 






THE PBABANTB- PAia I49 

The preoions objects were two olunuy iron rini™. hmtj^ in«« 
J^on of old Bonj« rings, such i'^™ ^^.tSfdiS 
tjtred. The rust on them, and the entirely hidden charMter 
of theiP potency, were so satisfactory, that the growiweM 
god wathout grumbling, and the nm woman, dSj 5 

^„n^*^? "'"".'; 'T^'^ "^^ "■""'' "'""'Of reluc- 
tance 0° Bratb^part in driving a bargain with some of her 

™? T'f f *•''' """*^'"« ^^8 ^ triumph. Bra^ 
probably obtained under the same sort of circumstances as the 

Iw ,-5f' ^71°*.*""° ''''' P"^'' ""^o ""ddenly upon Tito, 
who. If he had had time, would have chosen to avoid recogn?- 

T,-f?i^ w^!?^ °^?*° Giovanni, now," said Bratti, drawing 
Tito back to the pillar, " this is a piece of luck. For I ^^ 
tattmg of you this morning, Messer Greco; but» I said, he is 
mounted up among the signori now-and I'm gL of it for I 
was at the bottom of his fortune-but I can rafely get siZh 

t f^Bufit':^ "* ^ ir ""«'* '^^« °° ""« Bton'es':*or2 

e^pt^some small trifle to satisfy me for my trouble in the 

"You speak in riddles, Bratti, " said Tito. « Eomember, I 

fZ I '^''° ""^ ^'^ " y°" •*°' ''y -Iri^^B 5^ bargain, for 
iron rings: you must be plain." «s s^w 

thi™ ^ «^ «°lr '^*"8el8l it was an easy bargain I gave 
tiT;. \ rT *•"' ""irty-two per cent, I hSpTa Chris- 
I^o^mV " ^"i!."'"''- H 1 1"^ »ot borne a ^nscienc^ 
I^oiJd have go twice the money and twice the yarn. Bu^ 
totoig of rings. It 18 your ring-that very ring you've got on 

ChT'".^*/''""'"* 8** y°» " purchaser for; ay,Cda 
purchaser with a deep money-bag." ;•» »">n» 

"Tr^y?" said Tito, looking at his ring and listening. 
m,H«t.f T'^TT " ^^8 ""^"K^* ^''^y i"*^ Hungary, as I 
n.rf° •,. ^^- "^'^'^ "^^ ^°°^^ -^ °^" ^y shop to see if 
JcSliffh \*?'??'i ^'^"'*''°°^ ^- pric; of, I warrani 
70^ he thought I had a pumpkin on my shoulders. He had 
tow mmwapng aU the shops in Florence. And he had a 
nag on-not like yours, but something of the same fashion- 



# 



ISO 



SOHOLA. 



Md a. he WM talkmg of ring^ I wdd I knew « fine Tonn. 
mM, a particular acquaintance of mine, who had a ring of UuS 
■ort. And he said, ' Who is he, pray? Tell him I'U nve 

^l^ar"* ' "1 ^^ ^ *^°"«^' °' 80ing after you to 
NeUo'a to-monow; for it's my opinion of you, Meseer Greco, 
that you're not one who'd see the Amo ran broth, and rtand 
by without dipping your finger. " 

y.T^'^ '°'*u°° ""f? °' ^^^ ^""' ^ "id, yet his mind 
7^ ^. ri^'^ '^^ ^^^ "^^"^ ^y »''°"W ^0 keep the 
nng? It had been a mere sentiment, a mere fancy, that had 
prevented him from eeUing it with the other gemsf if he had 

that identification by Fra Luca. It was true that it had b^n 
taken from Baldassarre's finger and put on hU own as soon as 
his young hand had grown to the needful size: but there was 
reaUy no valid good to anybody in those superstitious scruples 
about inanimate objects. The ring had helped toward the rec- 
edition of him. Tito had begun to dislike recognition, which 
was a claim from the past. This foreigner's offer, if hi would I 
really give a good price, was an opportunity for getting rid of 
the rmg without the trouble of seeking a purcha^r. 
^ You speak with your usual wisdom, Bratti," said Tito. 

B,,t wl!"" f^T^"" ^ hear what your Genoese „m offer. 
But when and where shaU I bava speech of him? " 

"To-morrow, at three hours after sunrise, he will be at mv 
Z?^ . l°Z'''*^ "" °' *'"'* "•'"Pness I have always tak- 
Z^T • .'*' ^'"""' ^'•^' y°" '''^ -^^ ^^ '^ heavy pri^i 
for he mmds not money. It's my belief he's buying for some- 

^Itt\'S,^r'■f:^*«'"-P»'^''P«f-'»•°4eftsignor.'' 
^n^s well,'- said Tito. "Iwill be at your shop, if n^ing 

^'L^tj°V^^^ ^"^r!^"^" ^^ "°"y ^y ""« *<» °ld acquaint- 
ance sake, Messer Greco, so I will not stay to fix the smaU 
sum you will give me in token of my service in the matter. 
It seems to me a thousand years now till I get out of the piaz- 
za, for a fair is a dull, not to say a wicked thing, when one 
has no more goods to sell." 

Tito made a hasty sign of assent and adieu, and moving 
away from the pillar, again found himelf pushed toward Z 



THB PBA8AST8' PAIR i^ 

middle of the piuza ana back again, without the power of 
detomiwng hi. own oou«e. In this zigzag way he TJ ou- 
ned alongto the end of the piazza opposite U-HCh wheJT 
in a deep pece« formed by an irregularity in the lin^f housed 
an enfrtamment wa. going forwLd which seen. S t^ J^ Z- 
oW^attractive to the crowd. Lo„d buret, of laughter iX 
ruptod a monologue which wa. .ometime. .low and oratorlll 
at othen rattling and buffooni.h. Here a girl wm Siinii 
purfi^forward into the inner circle with appafent rXtS^ce" 
and there a loud-laughing minx wa. findij^^ a way wTthhei 

to There I'^K '*"?'" ^'»''' '^»' "^ 'P'-^ " er Se 
piazza. There were the pale stars breaking out above and th« 

oept when they were seen close under the fitfully moving lighta • 
heads of the encirclmg spectators stood in dark relief as Tito 
K? a"m^l"« *" '"'"^. *'•""' "^^ »'»- them ro'e th^ 
J^e.u*p^Tt."""* *'"'** "''''' ^''"^ y"""- -balistio 
"Behold, my children!" Tito heard him .aying, "behold 
your opportunity! neglect not the holy sacrS^f mS 
S^ T^° '^"'^^^ f°' the .mall .um of a wWte qua - 

aTlT^ b^Tef r^'fr "^^ °^"'""'' '^^ <li..olve'd by 
a .peoial buU beforehand at every man's uwn will anrf r,uJ 

ure. Behold the BuUl" Here the sp^Z h^d up a te' 
of parchment with huge seal, attached to it. « ^hoM tike 
indulgence granted by his Holiness Alexander the SUth wht 
being newly elected Pope for hi. peculiar piety L3 J^' 
form and purify the Church, and^isely fi Z^MilZ 
a^t pnesay abuse which keep, too larg^a .We of £ Sf 
leged matrimony to the clergy and stints the laity. Sp t o"ol 
my sons, and pay a white quattrinol This isThe who e ^d 
eni'.r'/,*''^ indulgence. The quattrino is the oily d'ff«^ 
^^^Belevgy-who spit and pay nothing. " 
Tito thought he knew the voice, which had a peculiarly 

S Sdf *V 'rr"" "" """"'' - shadow'f'S 
net aif."^'^ ^^' v™ '° *>* »"« °^ ^^^ f^^tures. Stepping a^ 
near as he could, he saw within the ci^le behind the speidc« 






113 



ROMOUL 



H. 



•n altar-lik* tebU niMd on a amaU pUtfonn, and oorend 
with a red drapeiy stitohed aU over with yellow oabaliitioal 
ngurea. Hall a dozaa thin Upers horned at the back of thia 
table, which had a conjuring apparatus aoattered over it, a 
large open book in the centre, and at one of the front anglee 
a monkey ftitened by a cord to a amaU ring and holding a 
amall Uper, which in hit incessant fidgety movemenU fell 
more or leaa aalant, whilst an Impish boy in a white aurpliee 
^upied himaelf chiefly in cuffing the monkey, and adjuating 
the teper. The man in the mitre also wore a surplice, and 
over It a ohaauble on which the signs of the zodiac were rude- 
ly marked m black upon a yellow ground. Tito was aure now 
that he recognized the aharp upward-tending angles of the face 
under the mitre: it waa that of Maestro Vaiano, the mounte- 
bank, from whom he had rescued Tessa. Pretty little Tessa t 
Perhaps she too had come in among the troops of oontadine. 

" Come, my maidens 1 This ia the time for the pretty who 
can have many chanoea, and for the ill-favored who have few. 
Matrimony to be had— hot, eaten, and done with as eaaily aa 
berhngoMn I And aee I " here the conjurer held up a cluster of 
tiny bags. " To every bride I give a Bm» with a secret in it 
—the secret alone worth the money you pay for the matrimo- 
ny. The secret how to-no, no, I wUl not tell you what the 
secret la about, and that makes it a double secret. Hang it 
round your neck if you like, and never look at it; I don't aay 
tha wiU not be the besl^ for then you will aee many thinga 
you don't expect: though if yoa open it you may break your 
leg, I vero, but you wiU know a secret I Something nobody 
knows but me 1 And mark— I give yon the Breve, I don't seU 
It, as many another holy man would: the quattriuo ia for the 
matrimony, and the Breee you get for nothing. Orth, giova- 
netti, come like dutiful sons of the Church and buy the Indul- 
gence of his Holiness Alexander the Sixth." 

ThU buffoonery just fitted the taste of the audience; the 
fierwsola was but a small occasion, so the townsmen might be 
contented with jokes that were rather leaa indecent than those 
they were accustomed to hear at every carnival, put into easy 
rhyme by the Magnifico and his poetic sateUites; while the 
women, over and above any reUsh of the fun, really began to 



M^.'^^it:^^ 



■%■.■% 



THI PBAflAMTS- FAn». ,„ 

W> wd grimacM oy« thf I:i^L!i fP^J"""'' "olemn gibber- 
of a luitern." ^ "■" '"'^ I*"" ''« ""der the light 
Je"*' '^J^C' "^ •°°' ^ "-""-""d your piou. obwrr- 
wiU. hi. monk^ ^* " ui,ple.«u,t ori.i, had ari«a 

-iKon oauMd him to leap back with ^^il. » '"""""'•'l Po- 
much for the slackened wLkVv™~ *" P™^*'* »•» 
His first leap WM to th« nfl^ ^'"^ ^ '°"^ """ '"te-ed. 

poaition hSZs^raSL te ™ To'tl? *"' V""" -^'<''' 
in the sarplioe took upTtlTJl '^"j""""* that the imp 

whereup^the ronkeyWdon to a.« r;^"/"'^''"'*^"'^ 
in the foreground, droppinTL tal^ bv?.? °' ' ^^r"""- 
teriug with incriaed emph«T8ftm a«/ ''^' "^^ ''^''" 
wa. the screaming and oon?S /"oT a^ew o'^^hZec^r 
having a vague dread of the Maitro'a mnl 8Pe<'««ton. 

more hidden mischief thaiTm™ teeth .L"^'^' " "»?»''''' »' 
and the conjurer himself w«^„ , "'""' ""'^'^ ^i^'i 

should hapjin to CllZ" riTfflit -"^ "^ 
monkey's strinij, Tito uot nnf^V tiT ■, "™* "^ «*"« <*• 
contend for hfs ^lace ala n he .1 Tu' '^^' °'" """'"S *» 

ally pushed towKTuioltrir *°.*". «""^"- 
amongst the worshippers. ^"naata, and to enter 

The brilliant illumination within seempH f„ 
kis eyes with palpable force aft«rTh!^T t" Press upon 

broad shadows o/tie S^itr'S fi'f"'" "«'"' "•* 
he could see nothing dSSy^^iX'sZt ^as^l^ 






104 



BOMOU. 



OmU tomathing inp^niaturtl and hMrraly to mtay of the 
pMtant won-ti, for whom half the ikj wu hidden by moun- 
Mni, and who went to bed in the twilight; and the unloter- 
ropted chant from the choir wai repoie to the ear after the 
helliih hubbub of the crowd outiide. Gradually the aoane be- 
came clearer, though etUl there wai a thin yellow haze from 
inoenie mingling with the breath of the multitude. In a 
ehapel on the left hand of the nave, wreathed with aUver 
lampn, waa men unveiled the miraculoua freico of the Annun- 
ciation, which, in Tito'e oblique view of it from the right-hand 
side of the nave, seemed dark with the fxoesi of light around 
it. The whole area of the great church wai filled with peaiant 
women, iome kneeling, some standing; the coarse bronzed 
skins, and the dingy clothing of the rougher dwellers on the 
mountains, contrasting with the softer-lined faces and white 
or red head-drapery of the well-to-do dwellers in the vaUey, 
who were scattered in irregular groups. And spreading high 
and far over the walls and oeilingthere was another multitude, 
also pressing close against each other, that they might be 
nearer the potent Virgin. It was the crowd of votive waxen 
images, the effigies of great personages, clothed in their habit 
as they lived: Florentines of high name, in their black silk 
luooo, as whun they sat; iu oouncU; popes, emperors, kings, 
eardjnals, and famous oondottieri with plumed morion seated 
on their chargers; all notable strangers who passed through 
Florence or had aught to do with its affairs— Mohammedans, 
even, in well-tolerated companionship with Christian cava- 
liers; some of them with faces blackened and robes tattered 
by the corroding breath of centuries, others fresh and bright 
in new red mantle or steel corselet, the exact doubles of the 
living. And wedged in with all these were detlched arms, 
legs, and other members, with only here and there a gap 
where some image had been removed for public disgrace, or 
had faUen ominously, as Lorenzo's had done sU months be- 
fore. It was a perfect resurrection-swarm of remote mortals 
imd fragments of mortals, reflecting, in their v ,■ ng degrees 
of freshness, the sombre dinginess and sprinkled orightness of 
the crowd below. 
Tito's glance wandered over the wild multitude in search of 



TM PIABAHTB* FAIR m 

nnd.r on. of them. iTt,. « W ^f >. ^^^' ''•*~' ''" '"« 

group of peasant womm »),n^ •8«m»t the wall, behind a 
.pot^n^ire^to th. r^' ilte^'^Hnf ■"/ -^ l<»Wng for a 
with a look of wearinegTi^dT, w ^ ^""^ * ""'• "'^e 

•b^ntly toward^" ^fj'"i'"'"'r'''™'*"'^'«'l '»">« 
.tood in hi, ~l^w' Kr/fli'''^; '^"'"^8" Michael 
b.ardedandton.uAr i^tr^Hrri^hth'^f » !"?"' """"S"' 
of coooons, fell by her eide H.til!!. * . t"*^' ^"''dii'g a bunch 
piUed, either by the light Ir Lv th^l "^"^ ^" """'' "'"»'' "" 
P«Med m herSde: Lr iS^ -JT"""!; """ """ "- 
gethe, and every uowlnS'^enV ^elWf f^ft^ '"- 
• large image of a arveet sleepy child Titofcff . • '" 
ble deaire to go up to her anrf «lf K .^ '" *° "reeisti- 

oould condemn him whoee Kt^- • -"^ Judgment that 

world apart where'he ^ "iltlfer''T ""^ """'''• 
•nd exacting demand, w freedom from auspioions 

She Beem^d ! «,Cf^m^. V^. '"r**"" '" ^ ""w. 
oome with dUi^r h? l?" t^tened isolation that would 

Mmself thafCa ^j'T^nr^'' IT'' *° "-" 
quietly to her side, kneelS on one w'^** .""'°' '"PP^? 
est Toioe, " Tessal » ' ""^ *""*' '" "^s «>«- 



166 




BOItOU. 




She seemed to be ooUecting her thoughts for a minute or 
two, and at last she said,— 
"I'm very hungry." 
"Cnr.t. '.iie^; come with me." 

H. iJted her u,-i her knees, and led her out under the 
oloisf rs jurromidi .j; the atrium, which were then open, and 
not y »; MloTU'^u. w.th the frescoes of Andrea del Sarta 
.< ?v '',!!? i* ^'"* *™ ^ ^y yourself, and so hungry, Tessa? " 
lie Madre is ill; she has vety bad pains in her legs, and 
sent me to bring these cocoons to the Santissima Nunziata. 
because they're so wonderful; seel "-she held up the bunch 
Of cocoons, which were arranged with fortuitous regularity on 
a stem,-" and she had kept them to bring them herself, but 
She couldn t, and so she sent me because she thinks the Holy 
Madonna may take away her pains; and somebody took my 
bag with the bread and chestnuts in it, and the people pushed 
me back, and I was so frightened coming in the crowd, and I 
couldn t get anywhere near the Holy Madonna, to give the 
cocoons to the Padre, but I must— oh, I must." 

"Yes, my little Tessa, you shall take them; but first come 
and let me give you some berlingozzi. There are some to be 
had not far off. " 

"Where did you come from?" said Tessa, a littie bewil- 
dered. I thought you would never come to me again, be- 
cause you never came to the Mercato for milk any more I 
set myself Aves to say, to see if they would bring you back, 
but I left off, because they didn't." 

"You see I come when you want some one to take care of 
you, Tessa. Perhaps the Aves fetehed me, only it took them 
a long while. But what shall you do if you are here all alone? 
Where shall you go? " 

" Oh, I shall stay and sleep in the church— a great manv of 
them do-m the church and all about here— I did once when 
I came with my mother; and tixepatrigno is coming with the 
mules in the morning." 

They were out in the piazza now, where the crowd was 
rather less riotous than before, and the lights were fewer, the 
stream of pilgrims having ceased. Tessa clung fast to Tito's 
arm in satisfied silence, whUe he led her toward the stall 



THK PBASANTS- FAIH. 1^7 

middle of the pi«.^za,llrthe m^wf^T '"'^ '"'^"'^ *^« 
found space to execute a d«n.! ^. ^*"'"' °° "'^'^ !««» 

as if tte sightsTfhe t»t "'' *«''"'' ''"* ^°°^<^ «"««1 
he, now shet^ s"af?:nK:rar' ''"'°"* "*^-'^- *° 

think Saint Chn^'stophe^hC^rr'"''^ «^'--. "D° ^ou 
" Because Saint Christopher is so verv tall . .^ j i. • 

Tito w;« ''^'"/°" *''"'y« •« '' '""g ''hile firstT" 



'I 



* 



us 



BOHOLA. 



Is I 



19' :t 



•i 



adoring him and nestling against him. The absence of pre- 
sumptuous self-conceit in Tito made him feel all the more de- 
fenceless under prospective obloquy : he needed soft looks and 
caresses too much ever to be impudent. 

" In the Mercato? " said Tessa. " Not to-morrow morning, 
because the patrigno will be there, and he is so cross. Oh I 
but you have money, and he will not be cross if you buy some 
salad. And there are some chestnuts. Do you like chest- 
nuts?" 

He said nothing, but continued to look down at her with a 
dreamy gentleness, and Tessa felt herself in a state of deli- 
cious wonder; everything seemed as new as if she were being 
carried on a chariot of clouds. 

" Holy Virgin ! " she exclaimed again presently. " There is 
a holy father like the Bishop I saw at Prato." 

Tito looked up too, and saw that he had unconsciously ad- 
vanced to within a few yards of the conjurer, Maestro Yaiano, 
who for the moment was forsaken by the crowd. His face 
was turned away from them, and he was occupied with the ap- 
paratus on his altar or table, preparing a new diversion by the 
time the interest in the dancing should be exhausted. The 
monkey was imprisoned under the red cloth, out of reach of 
mischief, and the youngster in the white surplice was holding 
a sort of dish or salver, from which his master was taking 
some ingredient. The altar-like table, with its gorgeous cloth, 
the row of tapers, the sham episcopal costume, the surpliced 
attendant, and even the movements of the mitred figure, as he 
alternately bent his head and then raised something before the 
lights, were a suflBciently near parody of sacred things to rouse 
poor little Tessa's veneration ; and there was some additional 
awe produced by the mystery of their apparition in this spot, 
for when she bad seen an altar in the street before, it had 
been on Corpus Christi Day, and there had been a procession 
to account for it. She crossed herself and looked up at Tito, 
but then, as if she bad had time for reflection, said, " It is 
because of the Nativity. " 

^ Meanwhile Yaiano had turned round, raising his hands to 
his mitre with the intention tf changing his dress, when hia 
quick eye recognized Tito and Tessa, who were both looking 



THE PEASANTS' PAIR. 169 

^h^ti!^"" *•"*' ^'"^ *°°'' "P°° ^ *•"« ligJ^' °f Ws tapers, 
while his own was in shadow. "'i-^n, 

l,»nf *' ""y •'^^«"'" he said, instantly, stretching out hi. 
hands in a benedictory attitude, "you are come to bemarri^ 

Lr Ze rz.^T'^'^^ "'^''^'^ "' «°^y <^^-^ - 

ing of Tessa's attitude and expression, and he discemedTn 
opportunity for a new kind of joke which req^red hlmto ^ 
cautions and solemn. 

sofH?t!ff ^°" ^-^^ ^ ^ """"^ *° "■"' T«ssa? " said Tito, 
softly, half enjoying the comedy, as he saw the pretty childish 

wwHT °°/*\*-'=«' ^'^ P«>-Pted byh^ prevUtoS 
which belonged to the intoxication of despair 

ti^^d^Jf " WmtouleT.":^^^ '^^ '■""^^'^ "^ ■''* ^^ -^ »'<^ 

He answered only by a smile, and by leading her forward 

infrontof thecerre^^no, who, seeing an excellent jest k tTs 

mty, and went through the mimic ceremony with a liberal ex- 
penditure of Unguafuriesca or thieves' Latin But some 

l!?lf ^^ ^u''°^"""°'"^'^'^'«'"'«« '•'«'" ^ith hands out- 
sb-etched in a benedictory attitude over their kneeling figures 

Tito disposed always to cultivate good-will, though it mighi 
be the least select, put a piece of four grossi i^to hifhand^ he 

fTlr'^' '^'^7" "^^""'^ ''^ '^^°°'' ^^^•'^ tl'e eonjW 
But iChiLTlf " P"^«''*r<»«-*-°d-« of thewhole affair. 
But Tito himself was yeiyfar from that understanding, and 

tell Tessa of the joke and laugh at her for a little goose or 

come of It-see what she would say and do next. 

after ?C/r7'",r.* «°. *'^y ^™"' "•« "8=^," "aid Tessa. 
wWo ^ r ,T^?^ ^ **' "**?«' " ''"'i you will take me to 
where you live." She spoke meditatively, and not in a que^ 

to Z*M T ?."* ^r '°"y '^^ '^^^' " I '"»»' 80 backbone, 
to aie Madre, hough to tell her I brought the cocoons, ml 
that I am married, and shaU not go back again." 



11 




I« 



ROHOLA. 



Tito felt the necessity of speaking now; and in the rapid 
thought prompted by that necessity, he saw that by undeceiv- 
ing Tessa he should be robbing himself of some at least of 
a>at pretty trustfulness which might, by and by, be his only 
haven from contempt. It would spoU Tessa to make her the 
least particle wiser or more suspicious. 

"Yes, my little Tessa," he said, caressingly, "you must go 
back to the Madre; but you must not tell her you are married 
—you must keep that a secret from everybody; else some very 
great harm would happen to me, and you would never see me 
again." 

She looked up at him with fear in her face. 
" You must go back and feed your goats and mules, and do 
just as you have always done : "ore, and say no word to any 
one about me." ^ 

The comers of her mouth fell a little. 
"And then, perhaps, I shall come and take care of you 
again when you want me, as I did before. But you must do 
just what I tell you, else you will not see me again." 

"Yes, I will, I will," she said, in a loud whisper, frightened 
at that blank prospect. 

They were silent a little whUe; and then Tessa, looking at 
her hand, said,— " 

" The Madre wears a betrothal ring. She went to church 
and had it put on, and then after that, another day, she was 
married. And so did the cousin Nannina. But then the 
mMried Gollo," added the poor little thing, entangled in the 
diftoult comparison between her own case and others within 
her experience. 

" But you must not wear a betrothal ring, my Tessa, because 
no one must know you are married," said Tito, feeling some 
msistence necessary. " And the buona foHuna that I gave you 
did just as well for betrothal. Some people are betrothed with 
rings, and some are not." 

_ "Yes, it is true, they would see the ring," said Tessa, try- 
mg to convince herself that a thing she would like very much 
was really not good for her. 

They were now near the entrance of the church again, and 
she remembered her cocoons which were still in Tito's hand 



THB PEASANTS' FAIB. m 

"Ah, you must give me the boto," she said: "and we m„.f 

7«,« ^°" "".f * »° '°' '^««»» i but I will not go in I mu«t 
n,/n^S^°°* "-T* ^"^"^ ^^' -"here do you goi>» Tessa's 

I shall come back some time, Tessa " 8ai<1 T,+„ *»..• v 
under the cloisters to the door of the churcT ^- V™? ^'l 

IKr""*^*" t'P' '^"^ y°" t-S'said^lrbear 
And here .s money to buy your breakfast. Kow kbs me TnH 
look happy, else I bhaU not come again " ' ^^ 

dered where Eomola was now, and what she wm AiX- , 

for him, and he must feef the cma^^d tt bl"e fnlt"! 
himself. Such a moment had come to Tito Th«r» ^ 



11 



r 



IS' 









1«2 



XiOUOLA, 



I ! 



Jii 



CHAPTER XV. 

IBB DTINO KEgSAOI. 

Whin Bomola arrived at the entrance of San Maroo aha 
found one of the Frati waiting there in aipeotation of her 
arrival. Monna Brigida retired into the adjoining church, and 
Eomola was conducted to the door of the chapter-house in the 
outer cloister, whither the invalid had been conveyed; no 
woman being allowed admission beyond this precinct. 

When the door opened, the subdued external light blending 
with that of two tapers placed behind a truckle-bed showed 
the emaciated face of Fra Luca, with the tonsured crown of 
golden hair above it, and with deep-sunken hazel eyes fixed 
on a smaU crucifix which he held before him. He was propped 
up into nearly a sitting posture; and Bomola was just con- 
scious, as she threw aside her veil, that there was another 
monk standing by the bed, with the black cowl drawn over Ma 
head, and that he moved toward the door as she entered; just 
conscious that in the background there was a crucified form 
rising high and pale on the frescoed wall, and pale 'aces of 
sorrow looking out from it below. 

The next moment her eyes met Fra Luca's as they looked 
up at her from the cruoifii-, and she was absorbed in that pang 
of recognition which identified this monkish emaciated form 
with the image of her fair young brother. 

"Dinol " she said, in a voice like a low cry of pain. But 
she did not bend toward him; she held herself erect, and 
paused at two yards' distance from him. There was an un- 
conquerable repulsion for her in that monkish aspect; it 
seemed to her the brand of the dastardly undutifulness which 
had left her father desolate— of the grovelling superstition 
which could give such undutifulness the name of piety. Her 
father, whose proud sinp«rity and simplicity of life had made 
him one of the few frank pagans of his time, had brought her 
up with a silent ignoring of any claims the Church could have 
to regulate the beUef and action of beings with a, cultivated 



»5P^^w ip^v 



THE DTDIO MBSSAGE. 163 

rf^« J''"/'"';^''' i° ''" °''"^' ^l°»8«d to that actual life 
of the mued multitude from which they had always lived 
aparti and she had no ideas that could renZ her brother's 

contempt. Yet the lovingness of Komola's soul had clun^ to 
that .mage in the pa,t, and while she stood rigidly aLt°he« 

monk' '^He'Cr cor^sponding emotion in the face of the 
falTwo™ ? ^ "* *^*' "*"' "^t^' "t^od to him in her 
' Mv T/^ ^"k"*^ 'f ""^ ^"-"^ S""" °f » "-iBiti^ spirit 
My sisterl he said, with a feeble and interrunted but v.f 
to utterance, " it is well thou hast not l^r deit/to 
oom^^for I have a message to deUver to thee, Z my S t 

Eomola took a step nearer : the message, she thought would 
be one of affectionate penitence to, her faker! ^dhe; he^rt 
began to open. Nothing could wipe out the long years of 
deserbon; but the culprit, looking back on tho^e yefrs ^ith 

Sr°Now '™hi'"'/%r"«*'°'^^"«'^ wouid'::?i%:S 

W« ' t^ ^^*^ *^*™ """^^ ^ understanding and 
h? wIT- v"'"" T"'^'* P°" °"* ■»«« "»tural filial fefw 
ra.iX-^."'^ '^""''^°°'' *•»"' ^" f""-*^" blinTess-how 

X?what th"«T/"' ''°" .""' ^°°« '^"'^ •I'^y^ J-d ^ 

k.7>L ^t i^^ '" """^ ^ *^« ''""« "^bere he himself 

^ ^'^.T™''"^!-'"'^ ^''^ ^'^' '"«»'«« from tte S 
hps would be one of tenderness and regret ^^ 

^e it h,. ^ , "^ '"'"^ '* '° *^« l''^* *'» "'O'^tbs: each 
tune It has been clearer. Therefore I came from Fie^la 
deemmg It a message from Heaven that I was bound to dS 

ittsfSrdrt:!!^r^""'-^*^'' «-*-^^-^ 

woi^rsrShiti^r"^^ ^'^--^^^ "» 

Eomola had felt her heart chiUing again. It was « vision 



m 




hB>.%^.^XimSM^^ll^^k^m^ 



m 



164 



ROHOLA. 



Dino, - thought you had gome words to send to my father. 
You foraook him when hia alght was failing; you made his life 
very deflate Have you never oared about that? never re- 
peLied? What is this religion of yours, that places visions 
before natural duties?" 

The deep-sunken hazel eyes turned slowly toward her and 
rested upon her in silence for some moments, as if he were 
m. diUti,,g whether he should answer her. 

" Xo, " he said at last : speaking as before, in a low passion- 
iess tone, as of some spirit not human, speaking through dyinit 
human organs. " No ; I have never repented fleeing from the 
stiflmg poison-breath of sin that was hot and thick around me 
and threatened to steal over my senses like besotting wine. 
My father could not hear the voice that called me night and 
day; he knew nothing of the demon tempters that tried to 
drag me back from following it. My father has lived amidst 
liuman sin and misery without believing in tbem : he has been 
Jike one busy picking shining stones in a mine, while there 
was a world dying of plague above him. I spoke, but he lis- 
tened with scorn. I told him the studies he wished me to live 
for were either childish trifling-dead toys-or else they must 
be made warm and living by pulses that beat to worldly ambi- 
tions and fleshly lusts, for worldly ambitions and fleshly lusts 
made all the substance of the poetry and history he wanted 
me t' bend my eyes on continually." 

"iiaa not my father led a pure and noble life, then?" 
Bomola burst forth, unable to hear in silence this implied accu- 
sation against her father. " He has sought no worldly hon- 
ors ; he has been truthful ; he has denied himself all luxuries • 
he has lived like one of the ancient sages. He never wished 
you to live for worldly ambitions and fleshly lusts; he wished 
you to live as he himself has done, according to the purest 
maxims of philosophy, in which he brought you up." 

Bomola spoke partly by rote, as all ardent and sympathetic 
young creatures do; but she spoke with intense belief The 
pmk flush was in her face, and she quivered from head to 
foot. Her brother was again slow to answer; looking at her 
passionate face with strange passionless eyes. 
" What were the maxims of philosophy to me? They told 






m ,— '-^"^ 



•^i IT. ■i."?=-. 



THE DTINQ MI88AOE. 



165 



me to be rtrong, when I felt myaelf weak; whui I waa ready 
hke the bleased Saint Benedict, to roll mi^elt^^^S: 

^ Ihfd 1 K •" ">•! .like a aeed that wants room to 
T^r; ►^ j^° ?"'"«''* "P '" careleasness of the true faith : 
I had not studied the doctrines of our religion ; but it sS 

waf i'lroTn'r^'r? """■ " r°« '°°"^ I felt t^TeS 
tTL . ?/u P^'°* ''"'* '"'^ ^""'y f°' tl'e soul; in which 
there would be no uneasy hunger after pleasure, no tonnentkg 
ttetH' "rl"^ °f "Offering. Before I knew the hS o< 
.^„ tTv,' K ^""^ " fo'e'tadowing of their eostisy. For thi 
same truth had penetrated even into pagan phUosophy^that 
at, s a bhss within the reach of man t^, die to moffieedl 
and hve in the life of God as the Unseen PerfectnesV^ B^ 

with my fellow-terngs only as human souls related to the 
ete^^ unseen life. That need was urging me continluy 

LTX ""' ? ''"'""' ''"'° "^y ""'"d fell away wea^ 

from the yam words which record the passions of dead ^ 
It came oyer me after I had been tempted into sin and Trd 
tarned away with loathing from the scent of the emptied cup 
And m visions I saw the meaning of the Crucifix " 

He paused, breathing hard for a minute or two: but Eomola 
Z^lir^"^ ^ 'peak again, u ,as useless for herS 
to attempt any contact with the mind of this unearthly brother • 

he Zr "^ .^°\^^'"^'l ^ '^ »"d grasp a shadow^ Wh« 
he spoke again, his heaving chest was quieter. 

servLf i* ^J'T ^^""^ *°"°'' = ''"' ^ ""'' *•>«' "■'en among the 
ZlTj ,' Cross who professed to have renounced%he 
world, my soul would be stifled with the fumes of hypocrisy, 
and lust, and pride. God had not chosen me, as hrchos; 

Church and in the world. He called upon me to flee: I took 
fte, acred vows, and I fled-fled to lands where danger and 
jcorn and want bore me continually, like angels, to re^e on 
the bosom of God. I have lived the life of a hermit, I have 
ministered to pilgrims, but my task has been short rtheven 



1**'^ JS. Of 






IM 



ROHOLA. 



rn! 



11 






iiii 



hM worn yerj thin that diyidu m« from my erarUf tins rMt 
I ovne bMk to Florence that " 

" Dino, you did want to know if my father waa alive," in- 
terrupted Romola, the picture of that auffering life touohinu 
her again with the desire for union and forgiveness. 

" '^''•* ^^°'o I died I might urge others of our breth- 
ren to study the Eastern tongues, as I had not done, and go 
out to greater ends than I did ; and I find them already bent oa 
Uie work And since I came, Romola, I have felt that I waa 
wnt partly to thee-not to renew the bonds of earthly affec- 
tion but to deliver the heavenly warning conveyed in a vision. 
JTor I have had that vision thrice. And through all the year* 
■inoe first the Divine voice called me, while I waa yet in the 

• ;', ,. r* **"* '*"8'" '""'* 8"'ded by visions. For in the 
painful linking together of our waking thoughts we can never 
be sure that we have not mingled our own error with the light 
we have prayed for; bnt in visions and dreams we are passive, 
and our souls are as an instrument in the Divine hand. There- 
fore listen, and speak not again— for the time is short." 

Bomola s mind recoiled strongly from listening to thU yi- 
S,°°V ,^«/,!°f 'Bnation had subsided, but it was only because 
fhe had felt the distance between her brother and herself 
widenmg. But whUe Fra Luca was speaking, the figure of 
wotiier monk had entered, and again stood on the other side 
ol the bed, with the cowl drawn over his head. 

"Kneel, my daughter, for the Angel of Death is present, 
and waits while the message of Heaven is delivered: bend 
thy pride before it is bent for thee by a yoke of iron," 
said a strong, rich voice, starUingly in contrast with Ra 
ijuca s. 

The tone was not that of imperious command, but of quiet 
self-possession and assurance of the right, blended with be- 
nignity. Eomola, vibrating to the sound, looked round at the 
figure on the opposite side of the bed. His face was hardly 
discernible under the shadow of the cowl, aiid her eyes fell at 
once on his hands, which were folded across his breast and lav 
in re lef on the edge of his black mantle. They had a marked 
physiognomy which enforced the influence of the voice: they 
were very beautiful and almost of transparent delicacy Bom- 



THE DTIWQ mSBAOK. tfj 

.upport. But the face wJud^e^^ti tt^ll T ' ^^} »' 
have an apDeal in th.™ !™" . ,', f^ *"* ''"'^» ieemed to 
ni«.t tte ShL t "kT.° '^l^'^'"- Tbe next mo- 

aponge which lav n«.r Tn J . . .'"^ '"' ^'P" ''*''' » "«» 
P^hfd back, a^d ttTieaLa of*^?' "^I'T' ."" """^^ '"" 
of the tapers on th«^ Th« ° '"''' ^^ *'"' '"" "gJ" 

ajlend^^en^:^^^^^^^ 

£5S'janSo:;r£:^,r^^-^ 

and passion: there w«r<i ♦»,« ui •""'g «j wu oi energy 

under aaburLeyeLir si* ■ "T^^ T'' '^'"'"S "'"'«y 
acute .en.i^enr.RomnnT' '^"•'^'' ''"°''"' *" *«" °' 

-nTs;t;itr '''"^''' "■' -^ --d'^^an^'or^ 

He was looking at her with mild fixedness whil« ^ 



If 




IM 



ROMO. 



and it wu » blank to ma, eren m « painting sffaoedi and I 
law him mora and taka thaa, Romola, by the hand; and than 
I law thaa taka my father by the hand; and you all thiaa 
want down the atone itepi into the straeta, the man whoaa faoa 
WM a blank to me leading the way. And yon itocd at tha 
altar in Santa Croce, and the priest who married yoa had tha 
face of death; and the graves opened, and tha dead in their 
shrouds rose and followed you like a bridal train. And yon 
passed on through the streeta and the gates into the ralley, 
and it seemed to me that he who led you hurried you mora 
than you could bear, and the dead were weary of following 
you, and turned back to their graves. And at last you came 
to a stony place where there was no water, and no trees or 
herbage ; but instead of water, I saw written parchment unroll- 
ing itself everywhere, and instead of trees and herbage I saw 
men of bronze and marble springing up and crowding round 
you. And my father was faint for want of water, and fell to 
the ground; and the man whose face was a blank loosed thy 
hand and departed: and as he went I could see his faoa; and 
it was the face of the Great Tempter. And thou, Bomola, 
didst wring thy hands and seek for water, and there was none. 
And the bronze and ji.uble figures seemed to mock thee and 
hold out cups of water, and when thou didst graap them and 
put them to my father's lips, they turned to parchment. And 
the bronze and marble figures seemed to turn into demons and 
snatch my father's body from thee, and the parchments shriv- 
elled up, and blood ran everywhere instead of them, and fire 
upon the blood, till they all vanished, and the plain was bare 
and stony again, and thou wast alone in the midst of it. And 
then it seemed that the night fell, and I saw no more. . . . 
Thrice I have had that v>.ion, Bomola. I believe it is a 
revelation meant for thee ; to warn thee against marriage as a 
temptation of the enemy; it calls upon thee to dedicate thy- 
self " 

His pauses had gradually become longer and morefrequeni^ 
and he was now compelled to cease by a severe fit of gasping, 
in which his eyes were turned on the crucifix as on a light that 
was vanishing. Presently he found strength to speak again, 
but in a feebler, scarcely audible tone: 



THl DTIMO JUSSAQE. 109 

th." hilSJ^T"? ^* :•*» P»'"<*>Pl'y wd oorropt thoughta of 

wiuturn to mookerjf, and the unolMn gods will " 

Tm wordi died away. 

b»T that thii Titian wai do more than a dream fed yZ w,!!tK 

olTeTH """;*" '^"''*"^'' • •'--T'.l^hfd' i 
over her. Her mind waa not apt to be aasailed bv airklv J^ 
0...; ahe had the vivid intelleo?aad thH^iiXSj!: 
.K.U which are too keenly alive to the oon.tant reS f^i 

tt. linage of the vi.ioi, .he deapiwd jarred and dittrwaed her 

StoSl'^lri."'"^"''': Anditwa.thefir,ttoT.hth^ 
wrtneaaed the.truggle with approaching death: her young 1^ 
W been sombre, but she had known nothing of theTtJ^t 

lui tT'l *^ '"'^"' '"°'"' ""»«"' and to make on. cZ^y 
with the pale face on the bed. i^'mpany 

"Frate," said the dying voio*. 

«J™lr """•" '""^ ^"* '"' •^•' -0^ <-• for 

"Bomola," it said next 

She leaned forward too : but again there wa. rilenoe The 
words were struggling in vain. M«n«). la, 

" Fra Oirolamo, give her " 

"The crucifix," said the voice of Fra Girolamo. 

No other sound came from the dying lips 
Dinol " said Bomola, with a low but piercing cry as fhe 

crd-^Tverjbren'" """ ''' '''-- »' ^is^^l^Z^ 

.^tfr'""JSis':^tt^rt!^f--o. after 

apS^r„t:JretroThtr^rgr:^rr 

K^^dXtrur'^ Wh^bythesideVhTdlS 



170 



ROMOLA. 



It seemed to her as if this first vision of death must alter 
the daylight for her for evennore. 

Fra Girolamo moved toward the door, and oaUed in a lay- 
brother who was waiting outside. Then he went up to Eomo- 
la and said in a tone of gentle command: "Bise, my daugh- 
ter, and be comforted. Our brother is with the blessed. He 
has left you the crucifix, in remembrance of the heavenly 
warning— that it may be a beacon to you in the darkness." 

She rose from her knees, trembling, folded her veil over her 
head, and hid the crucifix under her mantle. Era Girolamo 
then led the way out into the cloistered court, lit now only by 
the stars and by a lantern which was held by some one near 
the entrance. Several other figures in the dress of the digni- 
fied laity were grouped about the same spot. They were some 
of the numerous frequenters of San Marco, who had come to 
visit the Prior, and having heard that he was in attendance 
on the dying brother in the chapter-house, had awaited him 
here. 

Komola was dimly conscious of footsteps and rustling forms 
moving aside: she heard the voice of Fra Girolamo saying, in 
a low tone, " Our brother is departed " ; she felt a hand laid on 
her arm. The next moment the door was opened, and she was 
out in the wide piazza of San Marco, with no one but Monna 
Brigida, and the servant carrying the lantern. 

The fresh sense of space revived her, and helped her to re- 
cover her self-mastery. The scene which had just closed upon 
her was terribly distinct and vivid, but it began to narrow 
under the returning impressions of the life that lay outside it. 
She hastened her steps, with nervous anxiety to be again with 
her father— and with Tito— for were they not together in her 
absence? The images of that vision, while they clung about 
her like a hideous dream not yet to be shaken oft, made her 
yearn aU the more for the beloved faces and voices that would 
assure her of her waking life. 

'iito, we know, was not with Bardo; his destiny was being 
shaped by a guilty consciousness, urging on him the despairing 
belief that by this time Eomola possessed the knowledge which 
would lead to their final separation. 

And the lip6 that could have conveyed that knowledge were 



?IA'i>i 






A rLOKssmsz jokk. m 

region where hu^anlo^L^t wiJI™°°''*i^'° '^^ '*'^<"y 

dom; the revelation fW ^^.1 ^ substance of onr wi.- 

queaU ofS^ anJlttSl^'ZS^h^-i:^'' •*"^"' 
into irrevocable sUence. ' Mteotion had been carried 



CHAPTER XVL 

A VhOSXHTmiB JOKS, 

shotrtfe^rrL-'zzsrj'^f ^rr '"»-K=™*«'- 

Genoese straneer had ca^iff Iv * ^^"avMehi. The 
was oarryinnway fiftyTir'?.'?-V°^"'^ '^'1 Tito 

ttat^tefal,JortS,to e of h^itT" '" "^"^ 
him from the necessity of auittW %u . ^^''"'^' '»^«^ 

ter for him not to have parlS ? °"'"''' •" ''""''^ "« •>«'- 
understood to wear it f o^rte sl^t of''7'r'"'"' '"' ^""^ ^'^ 
predUeotionsi 8tiU, it wLa shSt m J ? '^"'^""'^ '^^ 
on with any emph JIT/in tf "*'' ""* """^ ^"'"^"8 
confidences f^rtane^ ^Lt^^T'^'^'^'''^ '°'" J"*' 
alarm which had implied his Z^. ««itement of the first 
i^ given place ^T^l^^l ,*", ^'■7'^^^ ^e future 
much for the pleas^es 2 coull^, ^''"'"'^*- ^« '=^«<1 «> 
the good opihL TLs Mwlente '»>;- «"°««k 



5u..->--m,^T^;r 'W 



m 



ROUOLA. 



was not in the humor to seek anything; he oonld only await 
the first sign of hia altering lot. 

The piazza with its sights of beauty was lit up by that 
warm morning sunlight under which the autumn dew still lin- 
gers, and which invites to an idlesse undulled by fatigue. It 
was a festival morning, too, when the soft warmth seems to 
steal over one with a special invitation to lounge and gaze. 
Here, too, the signs of the fair were present; in the spaces 
round the octagonal baptistery, stalls were being spread with 
fruit and flowers, and here and there laden mules were stand- 
ing quietly absorbed in their nose-bags, while their drivers 
were perhaps gone through the hospitable sacred doors to 
kneel before the blessed Virgin on this morning of her Nativ- 
ity. On the broad marble steps of the Duomo there were 
scattered groups of beggars and gossiping talkers : here an old 
crone with white hair and hard sunburnt face encouraging a 
round-capped baby to try its tu^y bare feet on the warmed 
marble, while a dog sitting near snuffed at the performance 
suspiciously; there a couple of shaggy-headed boys leaning to 
watch a small pale cripple who was cutting a face on a cherry- 
stone ; and above them on the wide platform men were making 
changing knots in laughing desultory chat, or else were stand- 
ing in close couples gesticulating eagerly. 

But the largest and most important company of loungers 
was that toward which Tito had to direct his steps. It was 
the busiest time of the day with Nello, and in this warm sea- 
son and at an hour when clients were numerous, most men 
preferred being shaved imder the pretty red-and-white awning 
in front of the shop rather than within narrow walls. It is 
not a sublime attitude for a man, to sit with lathered chin 
thrown backward, and have his nose made a handle of; but to 
be shaved was a fashion of Florentine respectability, and it is 
astonishing how gravely men look at each other when they 
are all in the fashion. It was the hour of the day, too, when 
yesterday's crop of gossip was freshest, and the barber's 
tongue was always in its glory when his razor was busy ; the 
deft activity of those two instruments seemed to be set going 
by a common spring. Tito foresaw that it would be impossible 
for him to escape being drawn into the circle; he must smile 



A FWRSamUB JOKE. 173 

»«n who let the mer^StS. of r* P'"* "^ *"• ^^ 
•imply a man of wea^ wnrT "^"^ "^"^^ ^ '"^ 

But juat at that time Tito f«1f . i.««j i • j 
and no amount of preWou7r». i I ^ '?"* °° "^^ "^o-Jd", 

Hia face, a. he turned it I„.H tl '"''1'° '"""^ J"'"*! J^-^ 
but the owner ofTeLdrt^^ ^^^"^ ""> *°''"'l "took: 

in It broke intoX^Wh 'Tt*"''*'*''"''^'^""''^^*" 

Tito's own aee with t-ln * ^ He was a young man about 

and oloee-ahfL J Zot"^'"'- ^T." "'ooe-dipped heaS. 

little encumbered X^»ib?ewir°^."''/'^f °* '^ ""'"'^ " 

Tous. The keen e™C« l^l^wK ^"^ "'** '"^ "°' "»'" 

aa so many other yoZ II™ S ^* ^°^ "^^ friendliness, 

closed on tiie worK hS! ' ^^^ ''^^ ^*'« "ft^'^ard 

at that time th^re weTeno^ w T^ disappointment, fS 

Niccol6 Macchiav 'uTr TrolT '""'?* Predictions ibout 

expected to mend th^ b^ken fo^nTff- P"'""'"*' ''^«' ^'^ 

" Why, Melema. wlTevTl S^^H " ?"*"* ^-^^J^" 

that you took my ligh7«MnftT»f/°'\>''' ^* "^sJ-ti 
worse? " ' ^ *^"P ^""^ *^* °* a ***w or something 

"Ah, Mes8erNiocol6!"aaiilTu« 

diately; "it m„st have beeTs^Ilt' """^""S bimself imme- 

veim. this morning t'tTu^^dTt^r! "' "^."' ^ ""^ 

'"•That"*J':^n"' i^'« i a b'adS^ht^?"^ °^ ^°" 

withSi„';ssLgTortX'^'i.'".^^^^^ '<"^« 

I Uke it fo^anted ^o^u S ^A^ '- ^"°''^ «"^-- 
Ti.2^txra^S^i--:W.-..me,..s.d 

a^™.; .^eryr;ordrrr;:s^-''^-"-^*'' 

gagements. Why we a™ t^ JZ , moonvenient en- 

the loggia amongV^^do B„cerj''^^!f'^ °^''"'' ""<*« 
be the choicest splrSinrtZ^f''''^'! there are to 
Only, as Hero d^Cdi" St^ tW^r't"^ * ^'"• 
inay happen to be swamned in ^ ^"^"^ .*^^ choice spirits 

verses. I hate that g^eft is a^^iT^? '""^^^P*" 
same, icu a device for the triumph of 



m 



fn 



Wf^^mmX^mLM^'*^'^ 1 



i » 




i! II 



174 



ROHOLA. 



jl .1 



"What la that you are saying about Piero de' Medici and 

™J^*f '*°'°"" ''"f^" ^ "°°' '''°« "« ""w last with bared 
musoiUararms and leathern apron in the Mercato VeZT 
waa this morning dressed in holiday .uit, and as he sTsubl 
m^ively while Nello skippedroundhin., lathered hL^S 
him by the nose, and scraped him with magical quicknesrhe 
^ked much as a lion might if it had donnid linen anT^io 
and was preparing to go into society. 

„l«t™"f'""'/~'^?^ '"^ "*''*" "«« ^ ^0 '^o'W if he cou- 
ples great and smaU in that way," continued Nello. " ^ 

as they hke, smaU men must not expect to mariy their words 

riv^; C ^^ ^ "'Ju"u''.'-'*''* Pagolantonio Soderini ha^ 
viz ^'mT- f"- ^'^^^'"' " ^^ °° ^0 «" f» setting on 
Piero de' Medici to interfere with the marriage between vomb 
Tommaso Soderini and Kammetta Strozzi, ListHeZf 
ambassador to Venice as a punishment? " '^ " " «» sent 

"ZoB'^l^rY^'"^- 1'°"^ ^^ ""«*'" ""d Maochiavelli, 
th« Ifr f P-^stment. The offence wiU make him 
^e most popular man in »" -torence, and the punishment wS 

^1^ T"?^ ^^^ ""'y ^^^'^ ^ ^^y '5^° ^'e known C 
to manage their own affairs." 

n,-n7«L*^ ^'^*^"' "**yf '""8 *°°»8h at Venice," said Cen- 

MedTi but wh7"». ^^Soderinihave been fast friUs of ttf 

e^eJ to the J^H f "" "^^^ '' "''^'y *°°P«° Pagolantonio's 
eyes to the good of our old Florentine trick of choosing a new 
harness when the old one galls us; if we have not Tufte ^Z 
the trick in these last fifty years " ^ 

free^^e I'C 'r "^ ^"^^^ ^*P"^ "^ '•« 'oio^^H in the 

r^L „l J^ ^** ^ **y *° °"'- P«°Pl« ''hen they get 
noisy over their cups at San Gallo, and talk of raising a ™^ 



f§ smmmmm^mmd^ 



.tf &ta m 



A FLORENTINB JOKE. 



r.x^.- Win u ,„u, a. AtL „:t tK^c!:: 

with that dLkrua* on you, „£ loo T" ^l:" """*" '* 
am ready for you now B^f^" ' ^^^'^ Domenico, I 

tinned Kello, The "aw T^o ^r, '"'^"'^ ^^ «'"'^"°'" ''°''- 
has been old Maao swW In ^^ ^"""^ ^'^ •J""' "t«e 

He wn,«.„eaZplX'TLSCrf r ''-"P'^- 

^"J^S^rCillt^rr --» - is dead,. 

Bo2a''sa:*'L'r " '^^^^^^ «"' ^-th happened before 

"No, I had not heard it " ha ,„iA -iv 
posnrethantheoccasionsL^^^^^t^tJ - -ore di«,om- 

«n« against the doorpost as if 1^ h J^^ T"'*' "°* '*»"■ 
8«»ing away. « I knew tw hi. -w ^J*? "^ •"« '"'^•^O" of 
Didhedie^beforeSearStd"' ""^ "^ «"'"' *» ««" l"^- 

"No," said Cronaca; "I wan in h.» « 
•aw her come out fr^ the Ihtn^ T "''° ** *« *^«> and 
who told us that thXng mSs bi'h'Jf'if* ^'^°"^°' 
as by a miracle, that he miht n,»t«T-? ^"^ '*'° P'*«'"«<J 
Tito felt that his fate wlfdL^H^ •^r'°''"o ^ his sister." 
»ver all the oiren^Sllof hTsti J^T ^'' "^"^ """""1 
he conceived a pta^^S baT^"" *'°'° ^^°™»<=«. and 
before the disclo'snre had'toL p„\ur TfT '~" ^f^ 
money he need not star Ion,, iT <.?^ . "^'^ ^^ ^^ 

-d biting words. H^w'Sd w'JT;" "'/""-^-S looks 
Cannini and eet the mZ.^ Z v° ' ^^ «° «^ay with 
project in his mtd he TtZi^l ^ ."* T'' ^'^l" "^^t 
Wa eyes fi«d absentlt^ T ''"-'^ ^'^'^s i° 1^8 belt, 

him, Lt sure tSKasabSZ"^'- ^'"'°' «""''^8 «* 



i 



I 



't^_ 



176 



ROMOL^ 



given for hia lefasd to see any piognoatios of chancter in U« 
faTonte's handsome face. Piero, who was leaning against the 
other doorpost, close to Tito, shrugged his shoulders; the fre- 
quent reonrrence of such challenges from Nello had changed 
the painter's first declaration of neutrality into a positiy* in- 
clination to believe ill of the much-praised Greek. 

" So you have got your Fra Girolamo back again, Cronaoa? 
I suppose we shall have him preaching again this next Ad- 
vent," said Nello. 

^ "And not before there U need," said Cronaoa, gravely. 
"We have had the best testimony to his words since the last 
Quaresima; for even to the wicked wickedness has become a 
plague i and the ripeness of vice is turning to rottenness in the 
nostrils even of the vicious. There has not been a change 
since the Quaresima, either in Borne or at Florence, but has 
put a new seal on the Frate's words— that the harvest of sin 
is ripe, and that God will reap it with a sword." 

" I hope he has had a new vision, however," said Francesco 
Cei, sneeringly. "The old ones are somewhat stale. Can't 
your Frate get a poet to help out his imagination for him? " 

"He has no lack of poeia about him," said Cronaca, with 
quiet contempt, " but they are great poets and not little ones; 
so they are contented to be taught by him, and no more think 
the truth stale which God has given him to utter than they 
think the light of the moon is stale. But perhaps certain high 
prelates and princes who dislike the Frate's denunciations 
might be pleased to hear that, though Giovanni Pico, and 
Poliziano, and Marsilio Ficino, and most other men of mark 
in Florence, reverence Fra Girolamo, Hesser Francesco Cei 
despises him." 

" PoUziano? " said Cei, with a scornful laugh. " Yes, doubt- 
less he believes in your new Jonah; witness the fine orations 
he wrote for the envoys of Sienna, to tell Alexander the Sixth 
that the world and the Church were never so well off as since 
he became Pope." 

"Nay, Francesco," said Maochiavelli, smiling, "a various 
scholar must have various opinions. And as for the Frate, 
whatever we may think of his saintliness, you judge his 
preaching too narrowly. The secret of oratory lies, not in 



▼ r 



A PLORBimint JOKK. 177 

WTing nei^ ttirigs, but in wying things with a certain power 
that moves the hearers-without which, as old Filelfo has said 
your speaker deserve, to be called, 'non oratorem, sed «ra- 
toem. ^ And, according to that test, Fra Girelamo is a great 

"That is true, Nicool6,» w^id Cennini, speaking from the 

^™r.?L"' ''"',P'"' "* '^^ ■""* lies fa the prophetic 
v«ions. Our people-no offence to you, Cronaca-wiS run 
after anythmg in the shape of a prophet, especially if he 
prophesies terrors and tribulations." ' 

"Bather say, Cennini," answered Cronaca, "that the chief 
secret lies m the Frate's pure life and s^ng fait^ whi^ 
stamp him as a messenger of God." 

"I admit it-I admit it," said Cennini, opening his palms, 

"He is satisfied with the pleasant lust of arrogance," Cei 
W out bitterly «I can see it in that proud Up%nd satis 
fied eye of his He hears tiie air fiUed with his own naLZ- 
^^^-'Ji?^" Sa;^°napola, of Ferrara; the prophet^ the saint, 
the mighty preacher, who frightens the very babies of Florenc^ 
into laymg down their wicked bawbles." 

.„ "?°'"-^' T""' ^T'^^'^' y°" "« °"' °* l"«"or with wait- 

^fU r .l^M'"""^*"'^ ^*'"°- " ^^ ""» '*"V your moutii 
with a lutle lather. I must not have my friend Cronaca made 
angry: I have a regard for his chinj and his chin is -in no 
respect altered since he became a Piagnone. And for mv 
own part, I confess, when the Frate was preaching in the 
Duomo last Advent, I got into such a trick of slipping ia to 
hsten to him that I might have turned Piagnone ^, tf I had 
not been hindered by the ..beral nature of my art; and also 
by the length of the sermon,, which are sometim;, a good 

wl'i^l^t *^'^5v*^ *^'' ""'^S P°^'- But, as Messer 
N1CC0I6 here says the Frate lays hold of the people by some 
power over and above his prophetic visions. Monks and nuns 
who prophesy are not of that rareness. For what says Luigi 
^ci? Dombruno's sharp-cutting cimiter had tiie fame of 
temg enchanted; but,' says Luigi, ' I am rather of opinion 
that It ou^ sharp because it was of strongly tempered steel.' 



1TB 



ROMOLA. 



Ye^ yet; PatenuMtets in»y ihave oleu, but Umt moft h» 
•aid over a good razor." 

"Bte, Ndlol " «aid MaoohiaTelli, "what doctor i. this ad- 
janoing on his Bucephalus? I thought your piazza was free 
from those furred and scarlet-robed lackeys of death This 
mi^ looks a, if he had had some such night adventure as' 
Boooawsio's Maestro Simons, and had his bonnet and mantie 
pick ed a Uttle in the gutter; though he himself is as sleek as 
a miller's rat" 

"A-ahl" said Nello, with a low long-drawn intonation, as 
he looked up toward the advancing figure-a round-headed, 
pound^oodied personage, seated on a raw young horse, which 
hew Its nose out with an air of threatening obstinacy, and bv 
a constant effort to back and go off in an oblique line showed 
freo views about authority very much in advance of the age. 

' And I have a few more adventures in pickle for him » 
oonlmued Nello, in an undertone, "which I hope will drive 
his inquiring nostrils to another quarter of the city. He's a 
doctor from Padua, they say he has been at Prato for three 
months, and now he's come to Florence to see what he can net. 
But his great trick is making rounds among the oontadini 
And do you note those great saddle-bags he carries? They 
are to hold the fat capons and eggs and meal he levies on silly 
clowns with whom coin is scaiee. He vends his own seorrt 
m^icines, so he keeps away from the doors of the druggists: 
aad for this h»t week he has taken to sitting in my pij^ f o^ 
two or three hours every day, and making it a resort for 
asthmas and squalling bambini. It stirs my gall to see the 
toad-faced quack fingering the greasy quattrlni, or bagjrinB a 
pigeon w exchange for his pills and powders. But PU nut a 
few thorns in his saddle, else Pm no Florentine. Laudamus I 
he 18 TOmmg to be shavedj that's what Pve waited for 
Messer Domemoo, go not away: wait; you shall see a rare bit 

5^ '"^'.''^"'^ ^ ^''^^ *"» ^y^ »8o. Here, Sandrol " 
Nello whispered in the ear of Sandro, who rolled his solemn 
eyes, nodded, and, following up these signs of understanding 
with a slow smile, took to his heels with surprising rapidity. 

How is It with you. Maestro Tacco?" said Nello, as the 
doctor, with difficulty, brought his horse's head round toward 



A ITX)I«NTIirE JOKE. 



170 



the bMber-. diop. « TUt i. . fine young ho™ of your., but 
•omething raw in the mouth, eh? " ' 

"He is an aoouTMd beast, the vemoeane seize himl » said 

!^r TT-J^^ ' v""* "' '""^°-' deBcendrng from hi. 
•addle and fartenmg the old bridle, mended with string, to 
Mi«m "taple m the wall. " Nevertheless," he added, r^l- 
l^ » i ' "?'* •*"* ""* " '»'"»"«. f<" °°« who 

" Bather too hard riding for a man who carries your weiirht 

i^,"'«; "'■' ^^"""^ " ""•* N«"°- " You .eim hot » 
Kruly, I am Ultely to be hot," said the doctor, taking off 
his tonnet, and giving to fuU view a bald low head and flat 
17^-*°*' T"? ^'^^ """^ '•'*' "P'*"' "">"«"- ~»»d eyes, 
^i^ith^ ^^^^"^^iT, '"~^'' *" P™J««ti"g eyebrows, whS 
altogether made Nello's epithet "toad-faced" dubiously com- 
plimentary to the blameless batrachian. " Riding from Pere- 
toU, when the sun is high, is not the same thing as kicking 
your heels on a bench in the shade, like your Florence doc- 

t^r^if^T"''/ ^*^'' ^^ "°* " "">" P"'"°8 *» get through 
the carta and mules into the Mercato, to find out the husbaf d 
of a certain MonnaGhita, who had had a fatal seizure before 

my "ee'S!^"' *" '* ^^ °°* •**" '^** ^ ^^ *^ '^""'"'l 
"Monna Ghital " said Kello, as the perspiring doctor inter- 
rupted hunself to rub his head and facf "V^L be^th W 
angry soul! The Mercato wiU want a whip the more if her 
tongue IS laid to rest." 

Tito, who had roused himself from his abstraction, and was 
Iwtening to the dialogue, felt a new rush of the va^e halt- 
formed ideas about Tessa which had passed through his mind 
fte evening before : if Monna Ghita were really taken out of 
the way, it would be easier for him to see Tessa again— when- 
ever he wanted to see her. 

" Gnaffi Maestro," NeUo went on, in a sympathizing tone, 
"you are the slave of rude mortals, who, but for you, would 
die like brutes, without help of pill or powder. It is pitiful 
to see your learned lymph oozing from your pores as if it were 
mere vulgar moUture. You think my shaving will cool and 



tm 



■OXOLA. 



I 



diwnoimiber yonf On* momrat ud I har* don* with !(•_ 
Fnno«tao hare. It laemf to me • thooMnd yeui till I wait 
upon a nan who carriaa all tha loianoa of Arabia in hia haad 
•nd laddla-bagi. Eoool " 

Nallo held up the shaTing-oloth with an air of inTitattoD, 
and Maeitro Tacco adraaoed and seated himaelf nndar a piaea- 
aupation with his heat and hia self-importanoe which mad* 
him qnita deaf to the irony oonrqred in NelWa offiaioualT 
polite speech. 

" It is but fitting that a great medious like you, " said Ke Uoi 
adjusting the doth, " should be shaved by the same razor that 
has shaved the illustrious Antonio Benevieni, the greatest 
master of the ohirurgio art." 

" The ohirurgio art I " interrupted the doctor, with an air o( 
contemptuous disgust. « Is it your Florentine fashion to put 
the masters of the science of medicine on a level with men 
who do carpentry on broken limbs, and sew up wounds like 
tailors, and carve away excrescences as a butcher trims meatf 
Via/ A manual art, such as any artificer might learn, and 
which has been practised by simple barbers like yourself —on 
a level with the noble science of Hippocrates, Galen, and Ari- 
oenna, which penetrates into the occult influences of the stars 
and plants and gems I— a science looked up from the vulgar I " 
"No, in truth, Maestro," said Nello, using his lather very 
deUberately, as if ha wanted to prolong the operation to the 
utmost, "I never thought of placing them on a level: I know 
your science comes next to the miracles of Holy Chnroh for 
mystery. But there, you see, is the pity of it "—here Nello 
feU into a tone of regretful sympathy— "your high science is 
sealed from the profane and the vulgar, and so you become an 
object of envy and slander. I grieve to say it, but there are 
low fellows in this city— mere tghem, who go about in night- 
caps and long beards, and make it their business to sprinkle 
gall in every man's broth who is prospering. Let me tell you 
—for yon are a stranger- this is a city where every man had 
need carry a large naU ready to fasten on the wheel of For- 
tune when his side happens to be uppermost Already there 
are stories— mere faUes doubtless— beginning to be buzzed 
about conceming you, that make me wish I could hear of your 






A FLORBMim jon. m 

^J^i-^r'.*"-^"**- I *««>ld not I1.T. •««.«£ 
ywr mrtal .t«Md. for though 8»n Stef ^o wu •toned, he wm 

"wSdor^tLS^ ^"e.r».t«n».^ M^t^i^ 
.y"^""^ ^ '•" "• y°" "• «>"»• »nto the tnp for tou 

tag iUrp tool, m their pooket,-no wrt of door, or wS 
or gutter but they wiU pierce it. They ue poe^Ld wXi 

m^ni »? ""l'**: '* °""* •« *^V "l-o h«ve done 1^5 
medioinei H.ve you by ohanoe detected any JLm awrtol 

to look; for it is now commonly talked of that you hare h^ 
i^in your dwelling at the Canto di PagKX.« vZ 
jacret .pecific. by night: pounding dried JLu S a LC 
oompoun^i^g a .alve out of maahed worm,, and making yoS 
piUe f rom the dr,ed liver, of raU whloh7ou mU witt S 

wSn'.T?.'^' utterance of a bUephemoua TuZZ£Z 
which indeed these witnesses profess to repeat." 

«t^^«„ir''°i!r"?"^°'«'^ ""> ''«*'r, struggling to 
grt uttonmco, and then desisting in alarm at the app^hiij 

vnl' l*J3 r* *".?'*' ? "^ °' '^' "Mpeotable company, that 
^ K ^ "^y '^'' '*'~*°'- '^« "« not the headsto pH 

'^aZT " *^r ^- ^'" "^'' "^ '»""' What C^ 
handful of reasonable men against a crowd with stones in thei^ 
hands? There are those among us who think Cecco d'Asc^S 

X^,r •'^!r""' "• »" ^"^ how he was '.umt 
ahve for being wiser than his fellows. Ah, doctor, it is not 

UyZltVtT *^\r: '""i""- *° J^nowFlii^Le^ 
ttey could find a good excuse for it; and they are persuaded 
that you are a necromancer, who is trying to raise tte Zt^ 
lence by selling secret medicines-and I Itol^urspS. 
have in truth an evil smell." "iwumo. 

"It ia falMl " burst out the doctor, as NeUo moved away 



in 



ROIIOU. 



t*r*T'*^,**^' I ^ •»«*»>>• pint and th.powd« 

odor_.nodorof_of«lv,.» H. «:• »d up with th. tathw 
OD hi. ohin, and the oloth round hi. neok, to Woh iu hi. Md- 

r^ *^,.*^I '*"*'* ">•<"'''»•■. -nd N«Uo in «, inrtttt 
adroitly d.ift«d the .h.ving-ohMr till it wm in th. dco Wdn- 
i^ of th« horse's head, while 8»ad«>, who htd now returned, 

«bT ,. ? •"' ""'"■ P'"*^ •'»""'•" "•»' the bridle. 
Behold, Messeril " said the doctor, bringing a unall bo> 
of mediomes and opening it before them. "Let any lignor 
•pply this box to hi. noetril., and he will find an honeet^or 
of medioameou-not inde«i of pounded gen,,, or rare rege- 
table. from the East, or stone, found in the bodies of biX 
for I practise on the diseases of the vulgar, for whom Heaven 
has provided cheaper and less powerful remedies according to 
Uieir degree : and there are even remedies known to our science 
which are entirely free of oos^-as the new tu»u may be conn- 
teraoted in the poor, who can pay for no specifics, by » „«>■ 
lute holding of the breath. And here is a p^ which t,7Z 
ofwvory odor and u infallible against melancholia, being con- 
cocted under the conjunction of Jupiter and Venu. : and I have 
wen It allay spa«n.." ' 

"Stay, Maestro," Mid Nello, while the doctor had hi. lath- 
ered face turned toward the group near the door, eagerly hold- 
ing out his box, and lifting out one sp«,ific afteTanother- 
here oomes a crying contadina with her baby. Doubtlesi 

totwT"^^ "' l?"' " " ^'^^' '^ opportunity for you 
to .how this honorable company a proof of your skui. Here, 
buona donnal here is the famou. doctor. Why, what i. ^ 
matter with the sweet bimbo ? " 

.J^A 1«~"°",7" "ddresMd to a sturdy-looking, broad- 
shouldered «,ntodina with her head-drapery folded about her 
face so that little was to be seen but a bronzed nose and a pair 
of dark eyes and eyebrows. She carried her child packed up 
m the BtiSf mummy-shaped case in which Italian babies have 
been from time immemorial introduced into society, tuminir 
Its face a little toward her bosom, and making those sorrowfiU 
grimaces which women are i. he habit of using a. a wrt of 
pulleys to draw down reluctant tears. 



A nOREMTIini JOKE. 



189 



"Oh, for U)« 10T« of I 



I ... '>^7 M»donn»l " uid the woman 

to . w.Jmg voio. i " wiU you look .t mj poor *.«««? T^i 

TOklonj^ But when I wa. holding it before the 8anti«im. 
«^w^ '"■»•»'*'•<' they „id there w« a new^tor 
*7 rjl" """^ ««7thing; «,d M I thought it might be the 
WiU of the Holy Madonna that I .hould bring it to you." 
Bit down, Maestro, eit down," «id Nello. "Here i. an 

dJ^'I^^iH:^ JZ' •""• "' ''°°°""'' '"'»•••«• *ho will 
declare before the Magnificent Eight that they have seen yon 

pr«t...n6 honeaUy and relieving . poor womin'a child. AnS 

then If your life i. in danger, the Magnificent Eight will put 

you in priwn a litUe while juet to insure your saf^^ aC 

Hffh'f \^^".'}"^ "" ~"'*"''* y°" °"t »' Florence by 
^w *.. ^T ^'^ *• ^••'lo"'' ^'e Minore who preach^ 

tnrowing; but we hare magistrates." 

The doctor unable to refuse, seated himself in the shaving- 
oha«, trembling, half with fear and half with rage, and by 
this time quite unconscious of the lather which Nello had laid 
on with such profuseness. He deposited hU medicine-case on 
his toees, took out his precious spectacles (wondrous Floren- 
tine devioer) from his wallet, lodged them carefuUy above his 

Ks.^dThetpttt'^ ""' ^^' "^ ^" "--" *""<^ 
"O Santiddio! look at him," said the woman with a more 

^l^^'J^ . ? *''"' " •''«' ^"^^ °»' the small mummy, 
which had Its head completely concealed by dingy draoeri 
wound round the head of the portable cradle, but VeemeTto 
be strugglmg and crying in a demoniacal fashion under this 
imprisonment "The fit is on him I OhimiJ I know what 
color he IS ; it's the evU eye— oh 1 " 

The doctor, uixiously holding his knees together to support 
his box, bent his spectacles toward the baby, and said cau- 

Sal" """^ ^ " "'^ "^^'^ """'"'^ «'•"«' «*•' 

The oontadina, with sudden energy, snatehed off the en«L.- 

cUng Imeu, when out 8truggled-,«ratehing, grinning," and 



I 



IM 



BOHOU. 



Kwaming— what the doctor in his fright fuUy belieTsd to he 
• demon, but what Tito recognized as Vaiano's monkey, made 
more formidable by an artificial blackness, such as might har* 
oome from a hasty rubbing up the chimney. 

Up started the unfortunate doctor, letting his medieine-box 

fall, and away jumped the no less terrified and indignant 

monkey, finding the first resting-place for his claws on the 

horse s mane, which he used as a sort of rope-ladder till ha 

had fairly found his equilibrium, when he continued to clutch 

It as a bridle. The horse wanted no spur under such a rider, 

and, the already loosened bridle offering no resistance, darted 

off across the piazza, with the monkey, clutching, grinning. 

and blinking, on his neck. * 

" llcavallo ! 11 Diavolo/ " was now shouted on all sides by 

the Idle rascals who gathered from all quarters of the piazzi 

and was echoed in tones of alarm by the staU-keepers, whose 

Tested interests seemed in some danger; whUe the doctor, out 

of his wits with confused terror at the Devil, the possible 

: Qing, and the escape of his horse, took to his heels with 

spectacles on nose, lathered face, and the shaving-cloth about 

his neck, crying— "Stop him I stop him I for a powder— a 

flonn-stop him for a florin I" while the lads, outstripping 

bim, clapped their hands and shouted encouragement to the 

runaway. 

The eerretana, who had not bargained for the flight of hia 
monkey along with the horse, had caught up his petticoats 
with much celerity, and showed a pair of party-colored hose 
above his contadina's shoes, far in advance of the doctor 
And away went the grotesque race up the Corso degli Adimari 
—the horse with the singular jockey, the contadina with the 
remarkable hose, and the doctor in lather and spectacles, with 
furred mantle out&ying. 

It was a scene such as Florentines loved, from the potent 
and reverend signer going to council in his luoco, down to the 
grinning youngster who felt himself master of aU situations 
when his bag was filled with smooth stones from the conven- 
ient dry bed of the torrent. The gray-headed Domenioo Can- 
nini laughed no less heartily than the younger men, and Nello 
was triumphantly secure of the general a/lmiT ^tiffn^ 



%imhjm.rfL^Mi 



UNDER THE LOGGIA. 



18S 



if I J V ' *^«'«"^ will you go too? " 
bnt^fi^" ^ri'*'^ ^''°'* ^*««''^°° t° accompany Cennini 

^no"S:i¥r;vrc""^^^"^"^"^^^^ 

toSt^LrZdT^'"'""^""'^''- She wished Tito to go 
under tI^wS"at ITn'^^/T.'''''^ ^'^^ "'"^•^ ««" ^'^ 
.peak to h^*fS.f ^ "* "^^ '""""^ ■" '*« ''^•^ to 



CHAPTER XVn. 

UNDXB THE LOOOIA. 

m^SoifL V , "" "•^* toward the street the roof was 
i«» conung toward hi. i„ ,„^i^, ^Jj^ rai'so^^oTab? 



IM 



ROHOLA. 



mortal by her aoft hazel eyea, he fell into wishing that she had 
been something lower, if it were only that she might let him 
clasp her and kiss her before they parted. He had had no 
real 4saress from her — nothing but now and then a long glance^ 
a kiss, a pressure of the hand; and he had so often longed 
that they should be alone together. They were going to be 
alone now; but he saw her standing inexorably aloof from 
him. His heart gave a great tlirob as he saw the door move: 
Bomola was there. It was all like a flash of lightning : he 
felt, rather than saw, the glory about her head, the tearful 
appealing eyes ; he felt, rather tjian heard, the cry of love with 
which she said, " Tito I " 

And in the same moment she was in his arms, and sobbing 
with her face against his. 

How poor Bomola had yearned through the watehes of the 
night to see that bright facet The new image of death; the 
strange bewildering doubt infused into her by the story of a 
life removed from her understanding and sympathy ; the haunt- 
ing vision, which she seemed not only to hear uttered by the 
low gasping voice, but to live through, as if it had been her 
own dream, had made her more conscious than ever that it 
was Tito who had first brought the warm stream of hope and 
gladness into her life, and who had first turned away the keen 
euge of pain m the remembrance of her brother. She would 
tell Tito everything; there was ua one else to whom she could 
tell it. She had been restraining herself in the presence of 
her father all the morning; but now that long-pent-up sob 
might come forth. Froud and self-controlled to all the world 
beside, Bomola was as simple and unreserved as a child in her 
love for Tito. She had been quite contented with the days 
when they had only looked at each other; but now, when she 
felt the need of clinging to him, there was no thought that 
hindered her. 

" My Bomola t my goddess I " Tito murmured with passion- 
ate fondness, as he clasped her gently, and kissed the thick 
golden ripples on her neck. He was in paradise : disgrace, 
shame, parting — there was no fear of them any longer. This 
happiness was too strong to be marred by the sense that 
Bomola was deceived in him; nay, he could only rejoice in her 



TODEB THE LOGGI4. 157 

SSL'S ^-^ S'^n* »« -""-i 

potenjr in mere wuhe.. Bomoref S^w ^'T""^ 
^ht, . their d*. ,^ „ ,, U'fe^ rjp^ 

g«t it; it aeems as if it would «™1J1 °*^" *°'- 

thing I BhaU looklt!" "' '^"^ ""> «"* «^»y- 

toapeai^, her thought, had LveZa liS"' *" ""*" 
^^a^etTer/USof^o'ul^^""''"'^*--"*'^. 



IM 



ROMOLA. 



oome aoroH him l«st the vision should somehow or other relate 
to Baldassarre; and this sudden change of feeling prompted 
him to seek a change of position. 

Bomola told him all that had passed, from her entrance into 
S^ Marco, hardly leaving out one of her brother's worda, 
which had burnt themselves into her memory as they were 
spoken. But when she was at the end of the vision, she 
paused; the rest came too vividly before her to be uttered, and 
she sat looking at the distance, almost unconscious for the 
moment that Tito was near her. Bia mind was at ease now : 
that vague vision had passed over him like white mist, and 
left no mark. But he was silent^ expecting her to speak again 
I took it," she went on, as if Tito had been reading her 
thoughts; "I took the crucifix; it is down below in my bed- 
room." ' 

"And now, my Bomohi," said Tito, entreatingly, "you wiU 
banish these ghasUy thoughts. The vision was an ordinary 
monkish vision, bred of fasting and fanatical ideas. It gurelT 
has no weight with you. " 

" No, Tito ; no. But poor Dino, he beUeved it was a divine 
message. It is strange, " she went on meditatively, " this life 
of men possessed with fervid beliefs that seem like madness to 
their fellow-bemgs. Dino was not a vulgar fanatic; and Fra 
Girolamo— his very voice Seems to have penetrated me with a 
sense that there is some truth in what moves them: some 
truth of which I know nothing." 

"It was only because your feelings were highly wrought, 
my Eomola. Your brother's state of mind was no r-ore than 
a form of that theosophy which has been the oomn i disease 
of excitable dreamy minds in all ages; the same laeas that 
your father's old antagonist, Marsilio Ficino, pores over in the 
Sew Platonists; only your brother's passionate nature drove 
him to act out- what other men write and talk about. And for 
Fra Girolamo, he is simply a narrow-minded monk, with a gift 
of preaching and infusing terror into the multitude Any 
words or any voice would have shaken you at that moment 
When your mind has had a Uttie repose, you wiU judge of 
such thmgs as you have always done befbre." 

" Not about poor Dino, " said Romola. " I was angry with 



ili=#l^ii^^S#' i^^V-J? 



WDER THE LOOGIA. j^g 

him; inyheartseemedtoolo8eamin«n,im_>.i v 
m; but since then I havrtCue« of wL^''"'"'*^■ 
unta at L t°? seemedt Jrv. ^^T ""** '* '""'"^ ^^'P him. 
iag face shed plty^.''^ *° ""' ^^ ^' ^f^«^^ <^ « the snfler- 

fit'KciTtrt: z *:™''ir^ *''-«^»' ^oy - 

looks made to scatter «I ... 7 .f ^J''"-t™''»«d Aurora, who 

think of them nZ^fs^Mt'd'^:^''''- '''^ °°' *° 
The ]a«f „^,^ ' ^°°8 be alone together." 

right hand ""^ •""" ^^^ " K»tle touch of hS 

whJe been in the chapter-house, lookin j^.t kf , • *" ""* 
sorrow and death. Jooiung at the pale linages of 

to gather round it all imlgS „f t ' T*^- ''''** «"•"«•* 
between the elms the sZnl . J°y-P"P'e vines festooned 
vibrating hea bri!?,t t!" ^ " perfecting itself under the 

-onSettrtt JdrtrS th'e""^^^^ 
with cymbals held aloft liX„i!i"^.®**^ '° gladness 
«g rhythm of strt^flir k- T'^T "^^^ '" the thrill- 
xvfture^evefitaheVfle '"^.f '"'^1i'°""*^« ''"'* *«" "^ 

"•""8 K» grasp; It was an experience 



i:i 



1 

I 



tm 



ROMOLA. 



hardly longer than a ligh, for the eager theoridag of age* to 
compressed, as in a seed, in the momentaiy want of a ringle 

"wu-7°* ***" "■• "^ ""^*' *° "*«' ^' '^*^> and i* v«n- 
lah^ before the returning rush of young sympathy with the 
glad loTing beauty that beamed upon her in new radiance, likd 
the dawn after we have looked away from it to the gray west. 
Your mmd lingers apart from our love, my Romoh," Tito 
said, with a soft reproachful murmur. " It seems a forgotten 
thing to you. " o"-"" 

She looked at the beseeching eyes in sUence, till the sadness 
au melted out of her own. 
"ICy joy ! » she said, in her full clear voice. 
Do you reaUy care for me enough, then, to banish those 
chill fancies, or shall you alwaya be suspecting me as the Great 
Tempter?" said Tito> with his bright smile. 

"How should I not care for you more than for everrthinB 
else? Everything I had felt before in all my life-about my 
father, and about my loneliness-was a preparation to love 
you. You would laugh at me, Tito, if you knew what sort of 
man 1 used to think I should marry-some scholar with deep 
line, in his face, like Alamanno Kinucciui, and with rather 
gray hair, who would agree with my father in taking the side 
of the Aristotelians, and be willing to live with him. I used 
to think about the love I read of in the poe^ but I never 
dreamed that anything like that could happen to me here in 
Flownce in our old library. And then you came, Tito, and 
wers so much to my father, and I began to beUeve that life 
could be happy for me too." 

"My goddess! is there any woman like you?" said Tito 
with a mixture of fondness and wondering admiration at th^ 
Wended majesty and simplicity in her. 

" But, dearest," he went on, rather timidly, " if you minded 
more about onr marriage, you would persuade your father and 
Messer Bernardo not to think of any mora deUys. But you 
seem not to mind about it." 

" Yes, Tito, I wUl, I do mind. But I am sure my godfather 
will urge more delay now, because of Dino's death. He has 
never agreed with my father about disowning Dino, and you 
know he has always said that we ought to wait until jton have 



mi^ ^m 



VSDKR THB LOGOtA. m 

"And not one kiss? 1 have not had one. " said Tito m n. 
exoase presumption ^ " ""** '^^ *» 

Sorc^-^'''^ *^* thei, kiL:ri're^ Ke i 

we"?W^ """^ """'' *^*' ''^^•' ^^ B°-oIa, "before 

sM?anTr^rhitr;xZnTri*':i:k^^ t^^« 

So^U.ern Italy, where' though irban,'nr'b;:Ss^ 

but by delicious languors such as never seU to cl™^^ 

ingenia aoerrima Florentina ' I shonM lit. * T* 

that southen. sun. lying among titwi'tuMu^ 
enjoyment, while I b«it over 'you and Z£^X. Tu^ «" 



191 



ROHOLA. 



tSh ^ TkT'^"^" unoon«rion, .train that .Mined aU on. 
^th the Ught and the warmth. You have nerer known Oat 
happbew of the nymph^ my Homola." 
'No; but I have dreamed of it often .inoe yon came. lam 

^ « « *>. "M"^ °°* *^^ "* '* "°^' Tito; it .eemTto 
me a. if there wou^d alway. be pale wdfaoe. among the flow- 
•n, and eyeaUurt look in Tain, letnago." 



OHAPTEB XVm. 



THX POBTBAIT. 



TW Tito left the Via de' Bardi that day in exultant ut- 
igfaotion at finding himself thoroughly free from the threatened 
peril, hiB thoughts, no longer claimed by the immediate prei- 
enw of Romola and her father, recurred to those futile hours 
of dread in which he was conscious of having not only felt but 
acted a. he wou^d not have done if he had had a truer fore- 

"V .V ""^^^ °°* ^''^ P*'*«^ ^^*'^ Ws imgi for Eomola. 
and others to whom it was a familiar object, would be a littte 
struck with the apparent sordidness of parting with a gem he 
had professedly cherished, unless he feigned as a reason the 
aZ^J^^" ^^^ special gift with the purchase-money; 
and Tito had at that moment a nauseating weariness of simu- 
lation. He was well out of the possible consequences that 
might have fallen on him from that initial deception, and it 
was no longer a load on his mind; kind fortune had brought 
hm immunity, and he thought it was only fair that she shovUd. 
Who was aurt by it? The results to Baldassarre were too 
problematical ti) be taken into account. But he wanted now 
to be free fiom any hidden shackles that would gall him. 
though ever so little, under his ties to Eomola. He was not 
aware that that very delight in immunity which prompted res- 
olutions not to entangle himself again, was deadening the «en- 
sibUities which alone could save him from entanglement. 
But, after aU, the sale of the ripg was a slight matter. 



THl PORTHAIT. 193 

ZJ^Z » ^"^^T"^ *° «-"• and chance? Happy d3s 
«d jUBtlean. rf her stepfather treated her more cruX „ow 

HSr "=""'•« -^H 

J««ld carry out a pretty ingenious thought which S set 
^more at ease in accounting for the absence of h^lg to 
S fe,rL ** '^'° »«7« Wa " a means of gu JZg W 
ZjiS^T,?^ '~Tru°* *^°'*' '""'^'^l' fancies which ie^ 
mK/ "PT"^* *» him; and with this thought in C 
mmd, he went to the Via Gualfonda to find Piero dicZ^ 
tt«amst whoatthat time was pre-eminent rthe£rtS 

Bntenn^the court on which Kero's dweUing opened, Tito 



IM 



MOMOLA. 



SHar^a XT"'"' '^""'««-- ~"<^ »Pto the .CS., 

ml^™^''""^'"""' thqra,».Ur..dyboU«l.„y 

Piero took the coin out of the leathern soamlb x- Kf. iw.u 

«.d the little maiden totted away. ^'^S^ffw^oi^ 

glwoe, of .w«i admiration at the .urpriain^Sr^ 

What do you want at my door, Me»«,r Greco? I «aw roa 

s^r^d^iLTn-riiiL'Si^^^ 
g^,^pers:s2^--;p-^ 

~1 r^uZni-^- --iS 

prompted me to come to yon." •'«i> wwi 

ne painter's manners were too notorionsly ode" to all th. 

If Tito h«l suspected any offensiye iattation, the impiJaTto 



TH» MRTRAIT. jgg 

out the oamer. of hi. moutt ^ ntj? /"""ef '^*^»^ 

"And what nuiy that need be?" ha ..m •#» 
Ptuse. In hi. hwrt he wJ^m^L k !f^T .''*"' » """"Mt'. 
of .pplying hi. i^wtfoT ^'^^ ""^ *' ^^*^ opportunity 

f.biTlVS!tw^h'°™J''T ^•^~' '^- '">- -rtain 

- ."-nr?ai:'A7;,Sie':rri''i^iS'r''°' 

th« ii»»_in the form of » WDt.ahri^^i »Ul iliow jm 
must be thv«i «;^fl "' thema.t.and sail., the oar. 

^d5ibStrtSg";i?x'r •"'"" ^•'»' 

the 'air-haired Ariadne wia».?r^S"' ^ ''*°* ^ ^'^ 
golden crown-thSnotLoS,^' TT^ "'* ^« 
will conceive it all-and atov?tte«t^U "^°° """*«'' y"» 
•uch as you know how toltint I^ « '^ ^°"°« ^'«'' 
point, of tteir arrTwa-L^ ^ * '**'*"« '^«' «»" »* thi 

other .en's thought ' ruVct: T""" ** ''""'^ '^^^ 

egg^heU. a^ a bankof Lhe.^n T " ''f " "^ '""'^'^ 
that sordid litter, thire wL" W J /^""f "''^P^* ''"» 




196 



ROMOLA. 



nitaue In the large room, eioept cu, wooden ttepe, evaU 
•nd rough boxe., all feetooned with cobweb.. »"• — ~ 

«owd«l Apparently Piero was keeping the Fert^ for the 
double door underneath the window which admitted the 
ptlQter ■ light from aboTe, was thrown open, and ibowed a 
puden, or rather thicket, in which fig-tree, and rine. grew in 
Ung ed trailing w.).Ine« among netUe. and hemlock., and 

W..h mulberry .«.• T^ .,.,,„ j, t^^t jank luxuriic. 

had begun to p..-, ... :., „Te,. wi L, the wall, of the wide and 

oa^ed marl.le . a. ra.nt, : r \ nu.t: mor. tuft, of long ^ 
and dark fe^taery i.,n,.,l bad r.aJ.. their way, and a Lg. 
.i-siuc, b'-avM to be pouring out the 
' ; ' . A!l about the wall, hung pen and 
!;« sea iiutnters; dances of Mtyr. and 
.'•J lesjit jction out of the deTouring 
. -, : ^ - •'• ">'P^in»l light upon them : .tudie. 

f/ viir*^ Srotesque head., and on irregular rough .belre. 

com, bullock,' horns, piece, of dried honeycomb, .tone, with 
feL^.« 'f7-<'°'<"-«d lichen, .kull. and bone^ peacock.' 

duy litter of the floor were Uy figure. ; one in the frock of a 
Vallombwaan monk, .trangely .urmounted by a helmet with 
barr^Tiwr, another .mothered with brocade and .kin. ha.tUT 

Sr^^ T i^ '"«~'" '"'''' P*«'^«<» <» •'"tting, too 
W to fly at the entrance of men, three corpulent Ud. 

TnT. r!"'*'^r "'*""**« friendly way near the door-stone: 
«»hf/- n™ -^'^ apparently the model for that which wa^ 
f nghtoning Cupid m the picture of Mar. and Venn, placed on 

on a box full of bran. «~""wn. 

Tito^i'J!"'' ^t^- ?"^" ^"^ ^'''~' "»•*"« « sign to 
then rtandmg over him with folded arms, " don't be tiy-ig to 



.tonevau, ''Itflilov 
ivy that itiuimed n 
oil .ketohes ot ta.,ti>' 
mtenada; Saint M^nr 
dragon; Madonna. i 



TBI PORTRAIT. i^ 

tL In^.TS!.'.? """''' ''•'" ">" ""• triptych." 

"There's nothing about the ArUdne then. " ;^ Ti» • 
ing hun the Daauin- « hn* - ^ "•"' ^^ "ito, (t-t- 

lag down into Tito', face "••*•' '" ' •" ""Ided, loolt- 

"And when shall I ait for vou?" mM Tit„. ««~-. , 
onelikene.., we must have two" ' "for Jwohaya 

"I don't want your likeneas ; I've got it already, " said Piero 
wt'."" "" "P'^^^B, Piero laid down the book and went to 



1«8 



ROXOLA. 



wI^T^,^^^ ■"■* ^^ '* *»'«» Tito', ey* 
He saw huudf with hi. right hand .plifted, holdiiur • winil 

Zf^^ *^ f"*°'l' ** tri«nph«t ^rb.t wi7lS.T^ 
fZf ST^^f^l'^ """ ""P ''•"' "" exp«Mion of moh inl«» 

!Z.™ Jf " '^*l^ "^'i' •"** P*"""^ "P«' *»»* •»• felt -^ 

sympathy with his imaged eelf . 

"You are beginning to look like it already," aaid Piera 
wiOi a short Uugh, moving the picture away again. " He^ 
seeing a ghost-that fine young man. I shall finish it some 
day, when I've settled what sort of ghost is the most terrible- 
wh.th«r it should look «,Ud. like a dead m«i oome taTu^^ 
naif transparent, like a mist." 

Tito, rather ashamed of himself for a sudden sensitiTeness 
J^^ °PP°^ to hta usual easy self-eommand, said oa». 

" That is a subject after your own heart, M esser Pieto-a 
r*7K "t*^^*^.^y « 8h<»t- Yoa seem to love the bl«uU»g 
of the terrible with the gay. I suppose that is the namf 
your shelves are bo well furnished with death's-heads, while 
you «j9 painting those roguish Loves who are running aww 
with the armor of Mars. I begin to think you a>» a Cynio 
philwyher in the pleasant disguise of a cunning painter.'' 

.^iZlW T^l ^'^'^ * P»»il'»>Pl'" i» tke last sort of 
ammal I should chooee to resemble. I find it enough to Uve. 
without spinning Les to account for life. Fowls cackle. assM 
bray, women chatter, and phUosophers spin false reasons- 
thas the effect the sight of the world brings out of th«n. 
well, I am an animal that paints instead of cackling, or bray- 
fflg, or spinning he.. And now, I think, our iLines. fa 
done; you-U keep to your .ide of the bargun about the 
Oaipn. and Antigone?" 

"I wUl do my beat," «ud Tito_on this strong hint imme- 
diately moving toward the door. 
^J|_Andyor'llletmeknow«tNeUo's. No need to oome here 

■J^r/?"^'''" '^^ ^'*^ l»ughingly, lifting hi. hand in 
ngn of friendly parting. 



it^%#l 



4 W^im 



r™i 



THB OLD MAN'S HOPE. 



1»9 



CHAPTER XnC 

THB OLD IfAir'l aoPB. 

Mmsbb Bbbkabik) dbi. Nbbo was as inexorable m Hnn.„i. 

«!mL' «*^^ ""-J"*""""*"! standard of sociiTvlir^ it 
seemed irrational not to admit that «,.„ , ^ " 



£« jr^^i 



200 



ROHOLA. 



father ud dftnghter, and the first promiae hkd eren been mir- 
pwed. The blind old »oholar— whose proud truthfulness 
would never enter into that commerce of feigned and prepos- 
terous admiration which, varied by a corresponding measure- 
lessness in vituperation, made the woof of ai. learned inter- 
course—had fallen into neglect even among his fellow-citiiens, 
and when he was alluded to at all, it had long been usual to 
ea- that, though his blindness and the loss of his son were 
pitiable misfortunes, he was tiresome in contending for the 
value of his own labors; and that hU discontent was a little 
inconsistent in a man who had been openly regardless of re- 
ligious rites, and who in days past had refused offers made to 
him from various quarters, on the slight condition that he 
would take orders, without which it was not easy for patrons 
to provide for every scholar. But since Tito's coming, there 
was no longer the same monotony in the thought that Bardo's 
name suggested; the old man, it was understood, had left off 
his plaints, and the fair daughter was no longer to be shut up 
m dc earless pride, waiting for a parentado. The winning 
manners and growing favor of the handsome Greek who was 
expected to enter into the double relation of son and husband 
helped to make the new interest a thoroughly friandly one, 
and It was no longer a rare occurrence when a visitor enliv- 
ened the quiet library. Elderly met came from that indefinite 
prompting to renew former intercourse which arises when an 
old acquaintance begins to be newly talked about; and young 
men whom Tito had asked leave to bring once, found it easy 
to go again when they overtook him on his way to the Via de' 
Bardi, and, resting their hands on hU shoulder, fell into easy 
chat with him. For it was pleasant to look at Bomola's 
beauty; to see her, like old Flrenzuola's type of womanly 
majesty, "sitting with a certain grandeur, speaking with 
gravity, smiling with modesty, and casting around, as it were, 
an odor of queenliness » ; • and she seemed to unfold like a 

'"Qu&ndo un« donua « grande, Len formata, porta ben aua persona, 
siedecon nna ceru grandezza, parla con graviU, ride coi. modeatla, e 
flnalmente getta qua«i un odor di Regina; allora noi diclamo qaella 
donna pare una maeaU, ella ha una mae8tA."_FiMiiacoi,A : DtUa Bel- 
lata dale Donne. 



™« OLD HANS HOPE. 






in. 

Tito's We. '" ^"^ ^" "ew bright life in 

longed-for ^eounVconoeS).?';? ^" ''"'"^ receive the 
be merged L, anoir^Sn "^;J^ ■ ''iS* '* «''-'<l -? 
ferred to a body of monkB. Td k. n i^?^^ °°* ** ^^a^- 
-onasteiy; ^'^t that ^.t should riirfl"^ "^ *\« "»-« of a 
braiy, for tl. use of Florentin J 7 T^V ^^' ^'"^ ^i- 
m in the Medici eould nTSf^nf k^ ' u'"* ^'''' "^ t^"'" 
ftiU theatrongeet lever"n the Stat . ^'" ^"'""'•' ''" 
^8 the ear of the Cardinal Giova^„' ^1 ^•'°^.°°'"' P««««- 
more even thaaMesserBemwdo town J •^"^"'' ""'^ht do 
""terest, for he could demon^^tetT^^r-^ *?' ''""^ 
Poouliar value of Bardi'ecolSnt/T'*'^ ""^'^o* the 
guinely of .uch a result wm. T''° ''"""W talked san- 
oonscioue that Eolurepaid th™*« *° "l^' *^« "'•* ""-^ -^d 
wi": a aort of <^or,ao:Zt noZlT^Zl' ^ ''" *»*^" 
have won from her '"'"'** *" herself could 

-'i- cr:rwl'^^i^-^e -Meet Of .ore than 
turned and the piosoectTf h^ ^" "^"^ Christmas was 
but ^way. out oTfiLt .fhX'XrH'^"^'^ °«-- 
beUef, which they dared nTi 5' u T"^"^" nursed a vague 
from the UhrlJ ^Z'^J^'tT^^ tbat his property, a^ 
wouMnoteven7eJertmZf '"''* '" '^•'""»^»- Efe 
«J"pondency, ^d^t Ke« ^TT^'^.P™'''""' °* "^^ry 
diainherited Dino woSd W fi^lf!,^'" "^ ''^ch he h^ 
debts, or that he n^ i:;^Srftn „a^'' °' ""^'^S b-* 
•ecunty that a separate iJ^Z I^J^''^^ ^^^^ «•« 

Hbrarr, in return fValerofVtv^ '^''^'^ *° ''''' 
to the Florentine Bepubir *^ ^ "^"^ *"" ""«J« i' "^er 

tioi^^sSrttt-gr^.rhafr-' ^" " --'*'■ 

"uarried, and Messei- Tito wTw * * ^°" "e to be 

.hould begin to wind up the affS " d Zt"' *"'^°"'' ''o 
sum that would be necessary to sTvelTK"^;'"""^ '^'' 
to-ehed. instead of letting th^e der atui^ X't"* 



™ 



902 




ROUOLA. 



Your father needi nothing but hii ahrad of mutton and hit 
macaroni every day, and I think Messer Tito may engage to 
supply that for the years that remain ; he can let it be in place 
of the morgtn-cap. " 

"Tito has always known that my life is bound up with my 
father's," said Eomola; "and he is better to my father thim 
I am : he delights in making him happy." 

" Ah, he's not made of the same clay as other men, is he? " 
said Bernardo, smiling. " Thy father has thought of shutting 
woman's foUy out of thee by cramming thee with Greek and 
Latin; but thou hast been as ready to believe in the first 
pair of bright eyes and the first soft words that have come 
within reach of thee, as if thou oouldst say nothing by heart 
but Paternosters, like other Christian men's daughters." 
^^ "Now, godfather," sa'dBomola, shaking her head playfully, 
"as if It were only bright eyes and soft words that made me 
love Tito I You know better. You know I love my father 
and you because you are both good, and I love Tito too because 
he IS 80 good. I see it, I feel it, in everything he saya and 
does. And if he is handsome, too, why should I not love 
him the better for that? It seems to me beautv is part of 
the finished language by which goodness speaks. You know 
you must have been a very handsome youth, godfather, "-she' 
looked up with one of her happy, loving smiles at the stately 
old man— "you were about as taU as Tito^ and you had very 
fine eyes; only you looked a littie sterner and prouder, 

" And Romola likes to have all the pride to herself? » said 
Bernardo, not inaccessible to this pretty coaxing. « However 
It IS weU that in one way Tito's demands are more modest 
than those of any Florentine husband of fitting rank that we 
should have been likely to find for you; he wants no dowry " 

So It was settled in that way between Messer Bernardo del 
Nero, Bomola, and Tito. Bardo assented with a wave of the 
hand when Bernardo told him that he thought it would be 
weU now to begin to seU property and clear off debts; being 
aooustomed to think of debts and property as a sort of thick 
wood that his imagination never even penetrated, still less got 
beyond. And Tito set about winning Messer Bernardo's re- 



THE DAT OF TH« BETBOTHAL 203 

»« little tool/„,ble to rweS"r^;K'''^^!l«- """""^ 
OMiy about in our hearts » '" "" ""* "» men 

B«»«l««iiled too, in happy «,„fide„^ 



CHAPTEK XX 

tH» BAY or TH« BTOOTHAl. 

Fir S"^,' It ttl ^r'-'^. -d the .t^ets of 
•"-atedprooewiona, ohanSsT^ ""T'"' *^*'" '"« the 
Iwd once been intioduoSbvTr^' ";'^''P««"«We now they 
w« the favorite S]Xi^.^u™n ^^ ^^^^^'-'i the™ 
uader the blue frosty sky. ZZt '' *^ "^ ^^^" 
•orts, from throwing Zfiteto T™ •^"^''"'^ J"^'^'' °f aU 
"tone.. For the boys ^d .^^^- ^'^"'« """nes-espeoiaUy 

in Florentine crowds. SeaT'"^^^" " "*""* *^'"*°* 
a. loud and munani^bW tJ^" ^t**" °' Camival-tinie 
immemorial Vri.ile^ZZrVj^T''^ T^ " ^" ""-i- 
prs, imtil a tobute had b^n J77 ^P"^*" *° "^^ P^^"" 
Ws of strong .en^tions^th'^B^SpT'"', wj'''^* ''>«'« 
«lude with the standine Tntert!"^^ .^"^ """^"^ = *«oon- 
which was not entoe^V^o^"""* "^ "tone-throwing, 

mjumingwasvariousT^dTwl °?ar''' *^^ '»'"«^"«* 
who was killed. So that th« „T ^^^ » ''"Sle person 

ofaoheokeredkint^dif ap'ir °' '"jf CamivaTwer^ 
resent them truly, he wou^d havl t^'JT ""^'^ "P*"" <» ^^P" 
««>«. would be so much grossnel! iTt^ ^"''"'' '° ^'''»'' 
«» turned with its face tl th^ ILr^L^.^-^ J^!^' -' 



a»i 



ROMOtA. 



down for the gnve historical purpose of jastifying a reftem- 
ing zeal which, in ignorance oi the facts, might be unfairly 
condemned for its narrowness. Still there was much of that 
more innocent picturesque merriment which is never wanting 
among a people with quick animal spirits and sensitive organs: 
there was not the heavy sottishness which belongs to the 
thicker northern blood, nor the stealthy fieroeness whioh in 
the more southern regions of the peninsula makes the brawl 
lead to the dagger-thrust. 

It was the high morning, but the meny spirits of the Car- 
nival were still inclined to lounge and recapitulate the last 
night's jests, when Tito Melema was walking at a brisk pace 
on the way to the Via de' Bardi. Young Bernardo Dovizi, 
who now looks at us out of Raphael's portrait as the keen- 
eyed Cardinal da Bibbiena, was with him; and as they went, 
they held animated talk about some subject that had evidently 
BO relation to the sights and sounds through which they were 
pushing their way along the Por' Santa Maria. Nevertheless, 
as they discussed, smiled, and gesticulated, they both, from 
time to time, oast quick glances around them, and at the turn- 
ing toward the Lung' Arno, leading to the Ponte Bubaoonte^ 
Tito had become aware, in one of these rapid surveys, that 
there was some one not far ofF him by whom he very much 
desired not to be recognized at that moment. His time and 
thoaght* were thoroughly pre-ocoupied, for he was looking 
forward to a unique occasion in his life: he was preparing for 
his betrothal, which was to take place on the evening of this 
very day. The ceremony had been resolved upon rather sud- 
denly; for although preparations toward the marriage had 
been going forward for some time — chiefly in the application 
of Tito's florins to the fitting up of rooms in Bardo's dwelling, 
which, the library excepted, had always been scantily fur- 
nished—it had been intended to defer both the betrothal and 
the marriage until after Easter, when Tito's year tf proba- 
tion, insisted on by Bernardo del Nero, would have be m com- 
plete. But when an express proposition had come, that Tito 
should follow the Cardinal Giovanni to Rome to help Bernardo 
Dovizi with his superior knowledge of Greek in arranging a 
library, and there was no possibility of declining what lay so 



wmM .■v'f^.rf^kl 



THE DAY OF THE BETROTHAL. 



20S 



pUfaly on the read to advancement, he had become urge„t in 
hMentreataes that the betrothal might take place beC h^ 

on his return, and it would be less painful to part if he and 
RomoU were outwardly as well a, inwardly p^dged to e^h 
^.ei7« . " ^Z."'*™ "'''oJ' defied Mes4 BemUoor^; 
one else to nullify ,t. For the betrothal, at which ring. w7re 

ral^f^r,"" "it^'T'' '"'°*"""' -""' "^"^ made mo'erhl 
half the legality of marriage, to be completed on a separate 
occasion by the nuptial benediction. Amok's feel^rC 

^n wot' " "" ""* *'' """""^ "'."-^ ""J'" ^^ 

And now Tito was hastening amidst arranglments for his 

departure the next day, to snatch a morning "isit tTCoU. 

To^i""^ ""Z "^l ''^' ^""^^ """ '^^^ needful to bl»X 
fo^ their meeting for the betrothal in the evening, n w^ 
not a time when any recognition could be pleasant that was at 
all hkely to detain him; still less a recognition by Te^ 
And It was unmistakably Tessa whom he had caught sight^f 

TrTof ttT '^ 'V *'""'•""' '"^o" ^«"'' tow^dtha7ve°y 
turn of the Lung' Arno which he was just rounding As he 

T^ h^ "T' "^'"""''io^^e'"' which told him Zt 
Tessa had seen him and would certainly foUow him- twL 
was no shaping her along this direct road by LZioZ 
over the Ponte Eubaconte. But she would not dare to sp^ 
to him or approach him while he was not alone, ^d he S 
conmue to keep Dovizi with him till they riched Barb's 

£l butairhe Tt ';.' P"""* "^^ *™"' "P »«>- *''™''ds of 
thouU h«l f ^b'lrtt* sense that Tessa was behind him, 
though he had no physical evidence of the fact, grew stronge 
and stronger; it was very irritating-perhaps all the more so 

made the determination to escape without anVvisible noticf 
of her, a not altogether agreeable resource. Yet Tito ^ e- 

ng his "addio" without turning his face in a direction^ere 
It was possible for him to see an importunate pair of blue 
•yes; and as he went up the stone steps, he tried to get r^ 



20« 



ROMOU. 



of nnpleuant thottghU by saying to himself th»t Otm iH 
lew might not hare nen him, or, if ihe h»d, might not 
h»ve followed him. 

But— perhaps because that possibUity could not be relied 
on strongly— when the visit was over, he oame out of the 
doorway with a quick step and an air of unoonsoionsnesa as to 
anythmg that might be on his right hand or his left Our 
eyes are so constructed, however, that they take in a wide 
angle without asking any leave of our will; and Tito knew 
ttat there was a little figure in a white hood standing near 
the doorway— knew it quite well, before he felt a hand laid 
on his arm. U was a real grasp, and not a light, timid touch : 
for poor Tessa, seeing his rapid step, had started forward with 
a desperate effort But when he stopped and turned toward 
her, her face wore a frightened look, as if she dreaded the 
effect of her boldness. 

"Tessal " said Tito, with more sharpness in his voice than 
she had ever heard in it before. " Why are you here? You 
must not follow me— you must not stand about doorplsoes 
waiting for me." 

Har blue eyes widened with tears, and she said nothing 
Tito was afraid of something worse than ridicule, if he were 
seen in the Via de' Bardi with a girlish oontedina looking 
pathetically at him. It was a street of high sUent-looking 
dwellmgs, not of traffic; but Bernardo del Nero, or some one 
^most as dangerous, might come up at any moment Even 
if It had not been the day of his betrothal, the incident would 
have been awkward and annoying. Yet it would be brutal- 
it was impossible— to drive Tessa away with harsh words 
That accursed folly of his with the e«rr«tono_that it should 
have lam buried in a quiet way for months, and now start up 
before him as this unseasonable crop of vexation I He could 
not speak harshly, but he spoke hurriedly. 

"Tessa, I otouot— must not talk to you here. I wiU go 
on to the bridge and wut for you there. Follow me slowly " 
He turned and walked fast to the Ponte Bubaconte, aild 
there leaned against the wall of one of the quaint little houses 
that rise at even distances on the bridge, looking toward the 
way by which Tessa would come. It would have softened a 



THE DAT OF THE BETROTHAL. Wf 

*^ ■ M §0011 M .he oune near him. 

..:j»:rtSr^j:^7i-sr;ri"?e^ 

vo.ce of TitC^-I thought you wouldn'Tto L lon^^fo™ 
you ome to take care of n.e .g«n. And the ;ST!^u 
me, and I can't bear it any longer. And alwavV^ZTr 
for . holidaylwalk aJt to'^find ^. «d'l S T 

2't hdp .^ for the days are so long, andl don^t m^d aU! 

S^ *■ »nd kjda, or anything-and I can't .» 

mie sob* came fast now, and the great tears Titn *-i* 

a^^y-yr't^the" ""^Tr ""^ ~^^°'*^- ^^ ^ 
away—yes, that he must do, at once. B' * it was all the 

TJ^^I^^V' *^, her anything that would Ce hert 

ground, but the difficulty of the moment wa* too ™«inr?l 

iuzx to weigh distant oonseqnenoes ^ * ^" 

"Tessa, my little one," he said," in hU old caressine tone.. 

"you must not cry. Bear with the <^ss^^\^i2 

Bome-a long, long way off. I ri^all come bf* !n a few 

l^J^ *^''° ^ P""^" *° ~""' ""^ •«> you^romUe me 
to be good and wait for me. " "omue me 

It was the well-remembered voice asain and th« ,«.« 
jound was half enough to soothe Te^ 'sh^Lt^ u^^ 
hnn with teustmg eyes, that still glittered with tea^, .obtoj 

Again he said, m a gentle voice,— ^ 

"Promise me, my Tessa." 
" Yes, " she whispered. " But you won't be long? " 



^ ROMOLA. 

"No» not long. Bat I must go now. And ranambn wh«t 
I told you, Teiaa. Nobody nut know that you aTw tw ma, 

•IM you will loM me forever. And now, when I hkT* left 
yon, go (traight home, and never follow me again. Wait till 
I oome to you. Good-by, my little Tenia: I wiU come." 

There wa« no help for it; he muit turn and leave her with- 
out looking behind him to lee how the bore it, for ha bad no 
tame to spare. When he did look round he was in the Via de' 
Benoi, where there was no seeing what was happening on the 
bridge; but Tessa was too trusting and obedient not to do 
just what he had told her. 

Yes, the difBoulty was at an end for that day; yet this re- 
turn of Tessa to him, at a moment when it was impossible for 
Urn to put an end to all difficulty with her by undeceiving 
her, was an unpleasant incident to carry in his memory. But 
Tito's mind was just now thoroughly penetrated with a hope- 
ftU first love, associated with all happy protpects flattering to 
his ambition; and that future necessity of grieving Tessa 
could be scarcely more to him than the far-off cry of some 
Uttle suffering animal buried in the thicket, to a merry caval- 
«dein the sunny plain. When, for the second time that 
day, Tito was hastening across the Ponte Bubaconte, the 
thought of Tessa caused no perceptible diminution of his hap- 
piness. He was well muffled in his mantle, less, perhaps, to 
protect him from the cold than from the additional notice 
ttat would have been drawn upon him by his dainty apparel 
He leaped up the stone steps by two at a time, and said hur- 

nedly to Maso, who met him, 

" Where is the dainigella7 " 

"In tte library, she is quite ready, and MonnaBrigidaand 
Besser Bernardo are already there with Ser Braocio, but none 
of the rest of the company." 

"Ask her to give me a few minutes alone: I will await 
MI la the talotta." 

Tito entered a room which had been fitted up in the utmost 
owtrastwith the half-pallid, half-sombre tints of the library. 
The walls were brightly frescoed with "caprices" of nymphs 
and loves sporting under the blue among flowers and birds 
The only furniture besides the red leather seats and the oen- 



.^3 jiAjr>'% 



THE DAT OF TOT BrTROTHAL. 209 

Uw flut^ modelled by . promUing youth named Michelangelo 
Bnonaiotti. It waa a room that s«t« » iwh of bein. in the 
•unny open air. 

^«r'°rf '"'''" "I""* """"^ ''™' "^d '"oked toward the 
dOOT. It waa not long before Eomola entered, all white and 

w.'HJ!!!"? i^" '7/ '^' ' *^' "'y- «« "Wte .ilk garment 
Tn!?^ ^v^.'*"'*^!" ^""•' ''^^^ '•" "'* large ta.«.ls, 
and above that wa. the rippling gold of her hair, aurmounted 

^ ^'"^^ ?*",°^ •"•' '°°8 '«"' ''''''•' "« '"toned on 
her brow by a band of peuU, the gift of Bernardo del Nero, 
and waa now pwted off her face ao that it all floated baok- 
ward. 

It, Btill keeping his mantie round him. He could not help 

f {"l^" Tr*.*" ^~^ •' •"" "8'^' '"'o *e atood in calm 
delight with that ezquiaite aelf-conaoiouaness which rises 
under the gaze of admiring love. 

"RomoK will you show me the next room now?" said 
Tito cheokwg himself with the remembrance that the time 
might be short. " You said I should see it when you ha<l ar 
ranged everything." ' 

Without speaking, she led tho way into a long, narrow 
room, painted brighUy like the other, but only with bird3 
flowers. The furniture in it was aU old; there were old faded 
objects for feminme use or ornament, arranged in an open 
cabinet between the two narrow windows; above the cabinet 
was the portrait of RomoU's mother; and below this, on the 
fc^ of the cabinet, stood the omoiflx which Komola had 
brought from San Marco. 

"I have brought something under my mantle," said Tito 
amilmg; and throwing oif the large loose garment, he showed 
the htUe tabernacle which had been painted by Piero di 
Cosimo. The painter had carried out Tito's intention charm- 
ingly, and so far had atoned for his long delay. "Do you 
know what this is for, my Romola?" added Tito, taking her 
by the hand, and leading her toward the cabinet "It is a 
little shrine, which is to hide away from you forever that re- 
membrancer of sadness. You have done with sadness now 



^^ 



7^>m^^y^^i''^ 




•"•etOeOW MKXUTION IBt OMIT 

(ANSI ond BO Tf ST CHAUT No. 2) 



1.0 g 

^^= itt |22 



2.0 
1.8 



I.I ?.' 



TIPPLED HVMGE Ine 

1653 Eo«l Main StrMt 
Roch«t«f. Nm Tof* !4«0g US* 
(71$) W-OMO-PhooT^ 
(716) 2M - 5»»» - Fo. 



210 



ROMOLA. 



^ 'tJ^'i ^^' "^^ '°^'" °* •*-'™'y tJ**"" in a tomb of 

jPy. 0661 

A slight quiver pwned across RomoU's face as Tito took 
hold of the crucifix. But she had no wbh to preyent his pur- 
pose; on the oantrary, she herself wished to subdue certain 
importunate memories and questionings which stUl flitted like 
unexplained • badows across her happier thought 

He opened the triptych and placed the crucifix within the 
centoal space; then closing it again, taking out the key, and 
setting the litUe tabernacle in the spot where the crucifix had 
stood, said, — ^^ 

"Now, ^mola, look and see if you are satisfied with the 
portraitB old Piero has made of us. Is it not a dainty device? 
and the credit of choosing it is mine." 

« Ahl^ is you_it is perfect! " said Bomola, looking with 
moist joyful eyes at the miniature Bacchus, with his purple 
clusters. "And I am Ariadne, uid you are crowning mel 
Jtes, It IS true, Tito; you have crowned my poor life " 

They held each other's hands while she spoke, wd both 
^ked at theu: imaged selves. But the reaUty was far more 
beautiful; she all Wy-white and golden, and he with his dark 
glowmg beauty above the purple red-bordered tunic 

And It was our good strange Piero who painted it? » said 
Bomola. "Did you put it into his head to paint me as Anti- 
gone, that he might have my likeness for this? " 

" K(^ it was he who made my getting leave for him to paint 
you and your father, a condition of his doing this for me!^ 
Ah! I see now what it was you gave up your precious 
T ,, P*"**'«^ yo" "lad some cunning plan to give me 

Tito did not blench. Eomola's little illusions about him- 
self had long ^as«a to cause him anything but satisfaction. 
He only smiled and said, 

" I might have spared my ring; Piero will accept no money 
from me ; he thinks himself paid by painting you. And now, 
while I am away, you will look every day at those pretty 
^mbols of our life together-the ship on the calm sel and 
the ivy that never withers, and those Loves that have left off 
woundmg us and shower soft petals that are like our kiasee- 



m.3t.: 



THE DAT OP THE BETROTHAL. 211 

have Bat by each other." "«» we 

"hJl™."'°;." -"^'^ ^Tl^ •" ■* J^^lf-Jaoghing voice of love; 

Ka^nJ^llfi'^" "^^ '^''°' v'"'' P^*y*"' ^~''"<"'. opening big 

!! .f. '! ^ T' '"'*'^ *° ^""^ a* **>« Muoifii again? " 
AH! for that very reason it is bidden— hidden bv these 
linages of youth and joy." ^ "* 

He pressed a light kiss on her brow, and she «»id no more 

^t.tr^""; ''''"" '^'^ ~"^' ''^«°''^« feltno^Td 
reason for resistance. 

ii^^^tV^^^ ^''^^ *''" "^**"8 •^"'P^y, which made a 
contetowMd Santa Croce. Slowly it passed, for Bardo nn- 
acoustomed for years to leave his own house walked wth a 
moretamid st«p than usual; and that slow ^ace snTtelweU 
wrtiMhe gouty dignity of Messer Bartolommeo ScI^J it 

wl^^ ., / T ""^to^ary to have very long troops of 
e^nten finr'" "* ""* ^'^''''' ~ '»t~«'al,*and ifh^ 
rr.^^ °T"^ '" **""" P""* *° '™i' ft" "umber 

.Me 1 r *^ f"^' *«'«'«^two bnndred on e^h 

side; for since the guests were all feasted after this in^l 
e»emony^as well a. after the no,», or marriage he ve^ 
first Stage of matrimony had become a minonTexpense 2 
^^ ct:'"K"sfd"' ^t' ^^'" -"P'o-drhU 
Ei^^ ^"^ ""^ appearance of claiming the advantages 

given on the strength of mere friendship; and the modert Z! 
cession of twenty that followed the ,p„ were witt th2^ 

'znz!^' «^»^ "^ ^^"'^ -^ Tito's^^ir;^! 



na 



HOMOLA. 



wills *u ^r "'^'"^ ■" » ""B"""* before Bttdo, who 

^H h^- • ff" '""^ ^'""^" ''««' ""«ri«^ »' Santa C^^ 
11 A"""".^ *?" ^°'°^''' '*'°8 betrothed and mS 
Sr/ ",^"° \^' "">" "''""^ »' Santa Lucia owS 
tteu: houoe, beoaa««, he had a complete mental vision rftS 
grand church, where he hoped that a burial might be Rranted 
him among the Florentine, who had deserved welL ^pS 

Trll, L -'V ""•y they "onW return bcforeanydancM 
or show, began in the great piazza of Santa Crooe. m.^ JJ 

^^ ^^ P*^*^ *'"' ^^l^' ""d shed a mellow li'w on 
aie pretty procession, which had a touch of solemnity in tie 

oCTd TitoLd t 't"- ^"* "^«- *^« eer^ony wt 
over, and Tito and Komola came out on to the broad steos of 

ttechurch. w,th the golden links of destiny on th7b fin^ 
the evening had deepened, into struggling starlight, and tt^ 
servants had their torches lit. """"gni, antt tbe 

jrZ^' tl-y eo'ne out, a strange, dreary chant, as of a 

of the piazza there seemed to be a stream of people impeUed 
by something approaching from the Borgo de' GkSi ^ 
Tito whn*""' °^ ^^'j' '""'"^ processioms I suppose," said 

And as he spoke there came slowly into view, at a height 
far above the heads of the onlook,™, a h^^ 'anlS* 

rounded by his winged children, the Hours. ^ ™ 
rZt .rfi''*\r ""'"P'"*"'^ "^''"d 'if' black, and th" 
ho™^^ . T *" "^^ '"« '^'■° "^^^"^ with blS,k, thei^ 
horns alone standing out white above the gloom; sotJiat^ 
^e sombre shadow of the house, it seemed to th^e at ali^ 

^uZh ^^ T^ J" "^^^'^ '"'^ apparitions fl.^^g 
through the sir. And behind them came what looked li ™f 
ta^pof the sheeted dead gliding above blackne». And a^ 
they ghded slowly, they chanted in a wailing strain. 

A cold horror seized on Romola, for at the first moment it 
seemed as if her brother', vision, which could never be eS 



THK DAT OF THE BETROTHAL. 213 

from her mind, was being half fulfilled. She oinng to Tito, 
who, divining what was in her thoughts, said,— 

" What dismal fooling sometimes pleases your Florentines t 
DoubUess this is an invention of Piero di Cosimo, who loves 
such grim merriment.'' 

« Tito, I wish it had not happened. It wUl deepen the im- 
ages of that vision which I would fain be rid of." 

"Nay, Eomola, you wUl look only at the images of our 
happmess now. I have looked all sadness away from you." 

" But it is still there— it is only hidden," said Bomola, in 
a low tone, hardly conscious that she spoke. 

" See, th^ are aU gone now I " said Tito. " You will forget 
this ghastly mummery when we are in the light, and can see 
each other's eyes. My Ariadne must never look backward 
now— only forward to Easter, when ahe will, triumph with 
her Care-dispeller."